Playing the Part
by Deena
Summary: Ken and Schuldich meet in an alternate universe...Revised and Updated! yaoi
1. Part One

Author's Note: I wanted to write a Schu/Ken fic without rape and torture and violence and all that crap so I've made this an alternate universe fic. There isn't any Weiss, Schwartz, missions, flower shop etc. Pretty much everyone is gay and ready for some fun. Hah, lemme know what you think.

Part One

The tall redhead leaned back against the folds of the cushy leather sofa and spread vinyl-clad legs slightly. "Come sit on my lap and kiss me," he ordered, pouty lips curving into a sultry smirk. 

Hidaka Ken scowled. He didn't know whom to blame for this stupid mess he'd gotten himself into; Yohji his skanky, two-timing ex-boyfriend, those jerks at the club who'd tried to rape him, himself, or this sexy, weirdo German guy. 

~_Sexy, hell yes. Weirdo I resent._~

Make that sexy, weirdo, German guy with mind-reading abilities. Ken kept forgetting that the redhead was a telepath, a fact that lead to embarrassing repercussions. Like when he'd tried to convince the guy that he wasn't really gay. The German had pulled the file on Yohji so fast it had nearly made his head spin.

"Well?" Long fingers patted slender thighs. "I'm waiting for you, Ken."

"I don't see why I hafta do this," Ken whined, fidgeting with the hem of his black T-shirt. "You can have anyone you want! Why does it hafta be me?"

"Because you owe me, that's why." Indolent jade eyes capture his own. "As I recall, you were in quite the tight spot, before I came along."

"I didn't ask for your help," Ken grumbled.

"No you didn't," the telepath agreed readily enough. "But you got it and now you owe me. Besides, it isn't as though this is permanent. We just need to practice a bit."

Ken flushed. "I'm not in the habit of...practicing with complete strangers."

"I'm not a stranger. I'm Schuldich, your savior." Flashing eyes darkened. "Now get your tight little ass over here and kiss me!"

Ken fidgeted a bit longer and then reluctantly began a slow trudge over to the other man. Yohji, he decided. This was all Yohji's fault. If he hadn't gone to the 'Electropolis' night club to find out if Yohji was cheating on him, than he wouldn't be standing in the Schuldich's elegant penthouse apartment about to kiss him!

"Forget about that cheating boyfriend of yours," Schuldich drawled out, interrupting his flow of thoughts. "He's nothing but a deceitful bastard and you know it."

Ken swallowed thickly. "Y-yeah."

The wounds were still fresh but he had no choice but to forget. Yohji didn't want him and there was nothing he could do about it. Ken steeled himself. The best way to forget about Yohji was to focus upon Schuldich and agree to his strange request.

He brushed jagged bangs from his eyes and stopped in front of the seated man.

_~Well?~_

He awkwardly slid onto the German's lap and straddled him, his bent knees flanking the other man's hips. He stared down into smoldering green eyes and tried not to think about how uncomfortable the situation was.

"Now kiss me."

Ken squirmed uncomfortably. "Uh...I'm not too heavy, am I?" he asked evasively, struggling not to blush.

"You're just fine," the German purred, long finger reaching to curve around Ken's waist. Schuldich's other hand lightly touched his cheek. "You've got a bruise forming. Does it still hurt?"

"Not anymore." Ken fretted for a moment, unsure of where to put his hands. He finally settled for placing them lightly on Schuldich's shoulders. He met the other man's gaze. "Thanks again for saving me. If you hadn't come along when you did then those guys might have...well you know. They were insistent. And drunk."

"Not a problem since I'm getting what I want from you." Schuldich caressed his cheek with silky fingertips. "Clubbing isn't your scene, is it?"

"Tonight was the first time I ever went clubbing," Ken confessed forlornly. "I'm not one for dancing and drinking and stuff."

A fine red brow arched. "That's more Yohji's scene, huh?"

"Don't mention his name," Ken muttered. He didn't ever want to see or hear about or from Kudou Yohji again. The image of _his_ boyfriend kissing a blue plate-eyed, ginger-haired, practically jailbait, kid in shorts was engraved in his mind. It had hurt and it had hurt bad. "I could care less about that lying asshole."

"So you're over him?" Schuldich asked, his voice dripping with repressed humor.

"Don't patronize me," Ken snarled. "I am over him!"

"Prove it," Schuldich challenged, green eyes locking with cinnamon.

Ken narrowed his eyes. He would prove it. Yohji was worth nothing to him anymore. He didn't care dammit! 

He leaned forward and jammed his mouth onto Schuldich's.

The shock of kissing a mouth that _wasn't_ Yohji was so drastic that Ken nearly pulled away. But long hands pulled him close and held him firm and Ken found himself relaxing. Schuldich's mouth was exotic, tasting of tart green apple and something alcoholic. He was tangy while Yohji was sweetness, lime to strawberry.

Though Ken initiated the kiss, Schuldich dominated it. His tongue lapped at closed lips, surprising Ken into opening his mouth. As the redhead explored his mouth solidly with drenched licks, Ken found that he liked how Schuldich tasted. He tightened his arms around the German and met his tongue. Their kiss intensified.

"Not bad," Schuldich drawled out, when their kiss had ended. "You and I are gonna do just fine."

Ken gasped for air. His forehead fell against the redhead's. "I've never done anything like this before," he wheezed, his heart racing.

"That's why you'll be staying with me for the week," Schuldich said. "So we can make this work."

"Wha'?!!" Ken's shock was so great that he started and lost his balance. He fell off Schuldich's lap and onto his ass on the thick, vanilla carpet. "Shits," he groaned.

"You okay?" Schuldich asked, peering down at him.

Ken jumped to his feet. "Don't change the subject!" he snapped. "I'm not staying with you! How can I? I have my own apartment and a job and I'm not gonna leave everything behind just so I can learn how to be your pseudo-boyfriend!"

Schuldich leaned back against the sofa and ran a hand through fiery locks. "Did I mention that I'd pay you?"

"I'm not some kind of cheap whore, you ass!"

"In US funds?"

"No!"

"You're a couple of months behind on your rent, aren't you?" Schuldich remarked casually. "Coaching soccer is a great summer job but it doesn't pay well does it? And what's gonna happen when you go back to university? Loans pile up you know. But the amount I'll pay you will jerk you straight out of debt hell." He smirked, reading the Japanese boy's thoughts. Ken had forgotten, yet again, that he could read minds. "You can't hide anything from a telepath, Kenny boy."

It would have been all too easy for Ken to accept the proposal but his conscience wouldn't allow it because he didn't deserve it. "I understand why you're doing all this," Ken began slowly. "And I understand that you'd pay for it. But what I don't understand is why you want me. Saving me at the club was an accident on your part and it was very nice of you to bring me here and patch me up but there are only hundreds of people more qualified than me. I really don't think this Bradley guy will get jealous if he sees me with you and isn't that the whole point of this sham? He'll probably laugh and ask you what you're doing with a loser like me."

"You've got a too low self-esteem, Ken," Schuldich pointed out. "That's something we'll have to work on."

"I don't wanna work on anything!" Ken cried, the redhead's calm tone infuriating him. "I just wanna go home!"

Schuldich stood up and caught his chin. "Forget about Yohji. Forget about Kase and Ran. Just because you've had a bit of bad luck in the love department doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. They were the jerks not you."

Ken wrenched away. "I don't want to talk about them."

"Alright then, we'll talk in the morning," he soothed. "It's late now and you need your rest. Come with me and-" 

"I said I wanna go home!" Ken interrupted, glaring.

"Your place is far from here," Schuldich reminded him patiently. "And you're still a bit banged up. Why don't you just spend the night? You can sleep in Brad's room. It's got a lock and everything. Then, in the morning, we'll work out all the details."

Ken sighed. He was tired and if the truth be known, which Schuldich more than likely did know, he really didn't want to go all the way across Tokyo back to his apartment in the middle of the night. He relented. "Fine..._but_ that doesn't mean I agree to staying here for a week."

"We'll see," the German replied unconcerned. "Now come on."

Ken followed Schuldich from the huge living room and down an elegantly decorated hallway. Schuldich entered the second room on the right and flipped on the light switch. The room was gigantic, at least three of Ken's room could have fit into it. It was decorated in tones of maroon and black and was meticulously neat. 

"Brad's a real neat freak," Schuldich explained conversationally. "Don't touch anything, especially anything on his desk and you'll fine. Just make sure you make the bed when you wake up. Brad hates an unmade bed."

Ken gawked at the tidy, lofty room. "Are you sure this is okay?" he asked apprehensively. "What if he comes back suddenly? Or what if I mess something up? Or what happens if I-"

"I told you, he won't be coming back until next week," Schuldich interrupted. "He's in Canada on business. Now stop worrying and go to sleep."

"Fine," Ken muttered, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "G'night then."

To his surprise, Schuldich pressed a brief kiss on his forehead. "Good night Ken."

And then he was gone, leaving Ken in a stranger's ultra-urbane room.

"Well shit," he muttered.

He stripped out of his black T-shirt and orange cargo pants and black socks and folded them neatly. He piled them on one corner of the massive king-sized bed and then shuffled across the maroon carpet to switch off the light. He hurried back to the bed, shivering in only his boxers.

As tired as he was, sleep eluded him for a long while. He stared up at the ceiling, covered in a slightly stiff comforter that smelled of  newness and expensive cologne. The silence was uncomfortable and he missed Yohji.

For a month and a half he'd been Yohji's boyfriend. He had regained his confidence with Yohji, something that had been shattered after his messy break-up with his previous boyfriend, Fujimiya Ran. 

And now, once again, he was alone. And Yohji was probably with that cute, blue-eyed boy.

_I can't help myself from loving you Kenken because you're so sweet and giving_.

Ken cried himself to sleep on a burgundy pillow that wasn't his own under the weight of astringent memories.


	2. Part Two

Part Two

Ken awoke at six-thirty on the dot, as he did every morning. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around at the sharp maroon and black room. The events of last night came flooding back in a rush, causing him to hastily stumble out of bed. Despite Schuldich's assurances that his boyfriend Brad wasn't due back until next week, Ken was taking _no_ chances. 

He folded the blankets and coverlet over the bed neatly and smoothed down all the wrinkles. Then he quickly shoved on his clothes and rushed out of the room in search of the bathroom. 

Schuldich's apartment, as he soon discovered, was large, roomy and expensive. In his walk down the elegant hallway, he discovered another bedroom, an office, a library, a very messy art studio room and finally, the bathroom. The last door at the end of the hallway must have been the German's room.

Ken winced when he saw his reflection in the large mirror. He leaned over the marble sink and gently touched his cheek. The bruise marking his face had turned to an ugly dark purple color. There was also a nasty looking scratch on his forehead, hidden under his bangs. He gingerly probed through his hair and found the big lump on the side of his head. He'd been thrown against the brick wall in the alleyway and had passed out. 

The three men had been drunk and Ken was pretty lucky that Schuldich had happened by. Otherwise they would have succeeded in gang raping him.

He shuddered as he washed his face. It had been the perfect conclusion to seeing Yohji kissing that kid.

"Fucking bastard," he said out loud, the words sounding foreign coming from his mouth. He usually never swore.

He finished up in the bathroom and headed for the last room. Perhaps Schuldich was awake now and then they could discuss this stupid situation. 

"Schuldich?" he called softly, sliding the door open. "You awake?"

He peered inside. Schuldich was sleeping on his stomach, his face buried into his pillow. His blanket rested low on slender hips, showing clearly that he slept in the buff. 

Cheeks burning, Ken quickly shoved the door shut and fled down the hall.

"Now what?" he wondered, walking into the living room. He absently made his way to the immense window that dominated the back wall and pulled open the heavy, dark blue curtains. "Oh jeeze," he gasped, eyes widening.

Before him lay the most majestic view of Tokyo he'd ever seen. In his own apartment, he lived on the third floor and his window afforded him with a splendid view of the bus stop, the grocery shop, a sushi bar and a hair salon. But this...this was mind-boggling. He had no idea what floor he was on but it was very high up. He could see the sun peeking up between buildings and sky scrapers that rose like skinny fingers. The sky was streaked with vivid hues of pink and orange and blue. Far below him, he could see cars and trees and people looking like grains in potting soil.

The balcony was locked so Ken made a mental note of asking Schuldich to unlock it when he awoke. He would love to stand outside and gaze at the city before he left. He stood admiring the view for a while longer before his stomach let him know that it was time for breakfast.

The kitchen, like the rest of the house was spotless and spacious. The various appliances literally gleamed in the morning light. A quick look into the fridge and the many cupboards revealed that the kitchen was filled with food, though most of it was foreign.

"Well," Ken muttered at last, feeling overwhelmed. He decided on a banana and a glass of milk. While he was quite a good cook, he only knew mostly how to cook Japanese food with Japanese ingredients. What one did with things like lemon grass and blueberry filling and starfruit paste was beyond him.

After breakfast left him at exactly seven o'clock. A half an hour had past. He sighed and wished that Schuldich would wake up soon. But something told him that the German probably wasn't an early riser. 

He wandered around aimlessly for a while before finally deciding to watch TV. When bored, TV was a great friend. He settled down on the plushy carpet and was pleased to discover that Schuldich had over a hundred channels. It wasn't long before he found a soccer game.

"England vs. Brazil!" he declared happily, crossing his legs and leaning back against the sofa.

Ken was half way into a second soccer game when Schuldich finally sauntered into the living room at eleven o'clock. Ken was so engrossed in the game that he did even hear the redhead enter the room.

"You stupid ref!" he yelled at the TV. "What kinda shitty call is that?" 

"You've made yourself comfortable I see," Schuldich observed, his tone amused.

Ken started and flushed slightly at having been caught shouting at the TV. "About time you got up."  

Schuldich looked offended. "Oy! I got up especially early because you're here!"

Ken stared up at him. "It's nearly _noon_. I've been waiting for you since six-thirty."

Green eyes stared back down at him. "For God sake's _why_?"

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise," Ken quoted.

"Early to rise and early to bed makes a man healthy, wealthy and dead," Schuldich quipped back.

There was a short silence. "Alright, you got me," Ken conceded, grinning ruefully. "That was pretty good."

"Well naturally," the German replied, settling down gracefully into an armchair. "I thought of it, didn't I?"

"Not to modest, are we?" 

Schuldich chose to ignore that remark. "What are you doing sitting on floor, anyways?"

Ken shrugged. "It's a habit. When I was a kid my mother never used to let me sit on the sofa 'cause I'd always spill stuff on it or make holes. So I had to sit on the ground 'cause we had hardwood floors. It was just easier that way."

Schuldich shook his head. "I knew you were weird. So tell me, how's your head doing?"

"Oh fantastic!" Ken enthused. "I'm in great condition to go home!"

"Nice try Hidaka."

Brown eyes widened. "How did you know my last name?" Ken gasped.

~_You tell me._~

Ken reddened. "Oh yeah."

"You've gotta start remembering things about me," Schuldich told him, sighing. "Otherwise Brad's never gonna believe that you're a my lover and then he won't get jealous. He's a shrewd guy, you know."

"I already told you that I'm not staying with you," Ken reminded him. "This isn't the sort of thing I'd be good at. I'd screw up."

"You aren't going to screw anything up," Schuldich contradicted. "You know, I really don't even see what the problem is. You need the money, you need a change to forget about Yohji, so why not? What have you got to lose?"

"But you can get anyone you want!" Ken protested. "He'll never believe that you chose someone like me! You're a mind reader, you can _screen_ people! I don't see why-"

"I don't want to waste time looking for someone else," Schuldich explained patiently. "When I've already got you here. Besides, I like you. You're cute. So why don't you stay with me for a while and help me out? There isn't anything worth going back for and you know it."

Those words struck home. A cramped apartment filled with dirty dishes and memories of Yohji awaited him. Even his job would be difficult. Many times Yohji would watch him coach or wait for him to finish. All the kids knew and liked Yohji. On days when he wasn't around, they'd badger Ken about where he was. How could he explain that Yohji wasn't ever coming back?

"I...I'll need some things from home," he said finally.

"Of course you will," Schuldich responded smugly. "We'll visit your place when I get back."

"When you get back?" Ken parroted, blinking. "Why, are you going somewhere?" 

"I have some work to do," Schuldich answered vaguely, standing up. "I'll be back in a couple of hours or so."

"A couple of hours?" Ken jumped to his feet. "Why can't I come with you? I don't wanna stay here alone. I'll be bored!"

"Brad's supposed to call soon and I want you to answer the phone," the German explained. "In the meantime, watch some more soccer."

"I don't wanna watch more soccer and I don't wanna talk to your boyfriend," Ken complained, aghast. "He'll get mad at me!"

"Oh quit whining." He caught Ken's chin and tilted it upwards to meet his eyes. "And in case you've forgotten Ken, the whole point of this charade is to make Brad jealous. That's why you're here playing my lover, remember?"

Ken pulled away. "What am I supposed to say to him? I don't even know you!"

"Which is why you're staying here for the week," Schuldich reminded him. "So we can learn about each other. As for Brad..." He shrugged, unconcerned. "Tell him we fucked like animals all night long. See if that gets a reaction from ol' cardboard man."

Chocolate colored eyes widened to plate-size. "I'm not saying that, you perv!"

Schuldich laughed. "I think I'm gonna have fun with you, Ken. You're cute when you're embarrassed, you know that?"

"If you're going then go," Ken grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and turning away.

"Kiss me and then I'll leave."

"Why should I?"

"Think of it as practice," Schuldich said, smirking. He caught Ken's wrist and jerked him into his arms. 

Ken sighed deeply. Sometimes you just couldn't win. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed the German.

~*~*~*~*~

Ken's heart leapt into his throat when the phone rang. He quickly jumped to his feet, dropping the magazine he'd been reading in the process. He didn't want to talk to Schuldich's boyfriend. From what he'd gathered, Brad Crawford was a rich, intelligent American businessman who was also stern, dictatorial and impassive. He was everything that Ken wasn't and he had no doubt that the guy was also possessive. He'd probably kill him when he found out that he was now Schuldich's lover, even if it was just a sham.

"OhGodohGodohGodwhydoIhavetodothisthissucksohdamnthatstupidSchuldichohGodwhyme," he fretted anxiously.

The phone continued to ring.

Ken swallowed and with a sweaty hand, he picked up the phone. It was now or never. "H-hello," he croaked.

There was a silence.

_Oh please let this be a wrong number. Or a prank call. Or one of those dumb surveys Or-_

"Is Schuldich there?" a firm, crisp voice spoke up in accented tones.

"Erm..." Ken poked at the thick carpet with a socked-toe. "He went to...ah...someplace."

"I see," he replied curtly. "And who might you be?"

"M-me?" Ken stammered, his heart racing. "Oh I'm just a nobody. You know, a friend or something."

There was another silence. A deadly silence, his mind embellished. 

"Can I take a message?" Ken asked, just to fill the silence.

His words were a series of ice chips. "Tell Schuldich that Crawford called."

"Sure thing! As soon as he gets in I'll be sure-"

Crawford hung up on him.

Ken set the receiver down ploughed a hand through his hair. Brad Crawford sounded like a very scary man. He would probably kill Ken if he ever found out that he had slept in his bed. 

"I hope Schuldich knows what he's doing," he muttered. "And I really hope this Crawford guy doesn't kill me."

Ken found that, despite the fact that the dreaded phone call was over, he was still restless. The chat with Crawford had left him edgy and nervous. He knew for certain that this stupid scheme was a bad idea.

A quick glance at his watch indicated that Schuldich had only been gone for about an hour so there was still a lot of time left. He wandered about for a while and found himself thinking about his own boyfriend. It was so easy to slip back into memories of Yohji and how much he missed the lanky blond.

"I won't think of him," he swore to himself tightly. "I won't give him the satisfaction."

An iron. He needed to iron. Smoothing out wrinkled fabric was metaphorical of how he needed to straighten out his own life. It had become a habit, ironing to help soothe him when he felt anxious of stressed. He'd ironed compulsively during his parents messy divorce, and his own break-ups with Kase and Ran.

He still remembered how much Kase, who'd been his roommate during his first year of college, had laughed at him when he'd iron frantically during exams. Or how his second boyfriend Ran had scorned him for wasting time doing something so stupid.

He sighed gently as he headed in search for of an iron. "You're such a loser Ken."

There was a linen closet in the bathroom and it contained an iron as well as the ironing board. He hunted around some more and found a bunch of wrinkled sheets and pillowcases stuffed in the back of the closet.

"I'm sure Schuldich won't mind," he muttered as he set up the ironing board in the living room where there was lots of room. "If anything, he'll owe me."

Time passed quickly then, as it always did when he ironed. He sang softly to himself as he ran the heated metal over crumpled fabric.

The front door opened a good hour and a half later and by that time, Ken's freshly ironed pile was rather large.

"You're late," he declared, running the iron back and forth over a particularly stubborn wrinkle. "I hope you're happy. Your boyfriend called and he scared the-"

"Who the fuck are you?"

Ken jumped at the raspy voice that definitely wasn't Schuldich. He whirled around and had to forcibly quell the urge to run like hell.

The man stared at Ken, unmoving and unblinking. He looked scary. He looked psychotic. He looked...well dead, really. His face and cropped hair were completely wan. The only color on his scratched, doll-like face was a black eye patch covering his right eye and a gleaming, amber left eye. His sleeveless jacket-shirt was black, revealing bandaged upper arms and wrists. His pants were also black, contrasting sharply with his ashen skin. 

"Hi-Hidaka Ken," he finally stammered after a long pause in which he merely gaped at the strange looking man. "I'm a...a friend of Schuldich's."

The man studied him, that concentrated yellow gaze raking over him from top to bottom. Ken fidgeted nervously and examined the wall with great fascination.

Suddenly the man snorted. "So Schu really went through with it."

Ken blinked. "Um..."

The man stalked into the living room. "You're the one who's gonna make Crawford jealous."

"Well Schuldich seems to think so but I'm not so sure," Ken admitted honestly.

"Why not?"

Ken shrugged uncomfortably and hurriedly looked away, unable to meet the man's piercing eye. "I guess you could say I'm not the type who inspires jealousy. So what's your name?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Farfarello."

"Um...well. It's nice to meet you," Ken responded, somewhat awkwardly.

"I want to ask you a question," Farfarello announced, coming closer to him.

"O-okay," Ken stuttered, struggling not to move back.

Farfarello stopped about a foot away from him. "Why are you ironing?"

Relief flooded over Ken. He exhaled a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. So Farfarello wasn't going to hurt him or anything. That was good. Then, almost immediately, his face reddened. Explaining why he ironed was never easy. "Well...if you wanna know the truth..." he fiddled with the iron's cord. "IironwhenIgetstressedandyeahit'saweirdhabitbutIcan'thelpitcuzIjustneedtocalm-"

"You iron when you get stressed," Farfarello repeated flatly.

Ken bobbed his head in a nod.

"Why are you stressed? Because you're here?" he asked curiously, studying him.

"Partly. But mostly because last night I saw...I saw..." Ken swallowed audibly and forced himself to continue. "I saw my boyfriend kissing someone else."

"Oh." Farfarello caught his eye. "Would you like some of my clothes to iron?"

Ken stared at him. Then he nodded and managed a small smile.

After bringing him a load of clothing, Farfarello sat down cross-legged atop the coffee table and watched him. As it turned out, he was originally from Ireland and he was Schuldich's best friend. He was an artist and stopped by often because his art studio was the room next to Crawford's.

"What would you have done if you couldn't find an iron?" Farfarello suddenly asked, interrupting the silence that had descended over them after he'd talked about himself to Ken.

Ken was surprised by the question. He shrugged. "Maybe vacuumed. Or washed the dishes."

Farfarello mulled over that, gnawing gently on the tip of his index finger. "I blend," he finally said. "That's what I do."

Ken remembered seeing a blender in the art studio. "When I was little, I used to make mud in my mom's blender. She'd get so mad." He grinned at the memory. 

"You should try blending paint with pastels," Farfarello advised solemnly with the barest of smiles. "It's the way to go."

Before Ken could reply to that helpful suggestion, there was a loud knock on the front door, accompanied by an unfamiliar voice . "Hey Schu, are you in here? Farf? Open up! I forgot my keys this morning!"

"Who's that?" Ken asked, trailing after the Irishman as he strode across the living room.

"My boyfriend Nagi."

"Your boyfriend? What's he doing here?"

Farfarello spared him a quick glance as he dug through his pockets for his keys. "He lives here. Nagi is Crawford's half-brother."

"Half brother?" Ken fell back and started to panic. Why hadn't that stupid Schuldich warned him that Crawford's half-brother lived with him? Now what was he going to do? If this Nagi guy was anything like Crawford then he'd be in deep crap.

Ken fretted and then decided to take a rational approach to the situation. He wasn't a child any longer, he was a man dammit! He could handle himself and he wasn't afraid of anything!

Farfarello unlocked the door while Ken hurriedly ducked into the closet. Okay, maybe he was afraid of certain things. He peeked out of the closet door crack and immediately felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.

Crawford's half-brother was practically a child! His grey uniform indicated that he was probably only in high school and Ken guessed his age to be about fifteen or sixteen. Nagi was small and thin, with chestnut colored hair and wide, dark eyes. Ken gawked as the boy beamed and then hurled himself onto Farfarello. 

"I missed you!" he nearly shrieked and kissed the Irishman soundly.

"Hey, aren't you gonna invite me in?" another voice spoke up from the hallway.

Nagi pulled away and flushed slightly. "Oh yeah, come in! See Farf, this is Omi from my bio class. We're hafta to do a presentation on genetics together. Omi, this is my boyfriend Farfarello." He hugged Farfarello's arm tightly. 

A light-haired boy dressed in a similar grey uniform entered and Ken's eyes widened as he got a good look at the boy's face.

It was the kid from the club who Yohji had been kissing!

Ken gasped in utter horror and somehow managed to trip and spill gauchely out of the closet on his hands and knees. "Ow," he muttered, feeling his face heat up. Of all the times to trip up! Mentally he cursed.

"Who are you?" Nagi demanded, gawking in disbelief.

"This is Ken," Farfarello introduced, unfazed. "He likes to iron."

"Oh _sexy_!" Schuldich drawled out, stepping into the crowded doorway. "I love having a cute guy greet me on his hands and knees."

Nagi and Omi snickered.

Farfarello looked bored.

Ken scowled at Omi.


	3. Part Three

Part Three

Ken jumped to his feet intending to let that Omi kid really have it. Who did the little brat think he was, anyways? He probably wasn't even old enough to _be_ visiting a club, let alone kissing his boyfriend! "You're that-"

"You were in the closet," Farfarello interrupted in his flat voice. "Is that one of your things, like ironing?"  

Ken wanted to scream.

"Ironing?" Nagi looked interested. "What, do you like to iron or something?"

"I like to blend," Farfarello offered. He looked at the blond kid. "What do you like to do?"

The kid looked confused. "Um...ride my bike?"

Ken snorted. What a stupid-assed kid! "I'll bet I know what you-"

Schuldich was quick to grab Ken's hand and drag him into the living room. "We'll be back in a bit," he called over his shoulder.

Ken fumed but allowed Schuldich to lead him down the hall and push him into his room. The redhead slammed the door shut and locked it behind them.

"You shouldn't have done that! I was gonna give it good to that little-"

"He doesn't know," Schuldich interrupted, flopping down onto his bed.

"What?"

"He doesn't know about you," Schuldich repeated. "I scanned his mind. The kid's adopted and he's desperate to find his real family. He went to a private investigation agency and hired Yohji. Then along the way, he developed a huge crush on him. Yesterday Yohji found some big lead and so he and the kid went to the club to celebrate. They kissed and the boy been on cloud nine ever since."

"The Tsukiyono Omi case," Ken muttered, sitting down next to Schuldich. "Yohji told me about it." He sighed and stared sullenly at the carpet. "This sucks ass."

"Ken-"

"It's not like it matters, not really but it just kinda hurts, you know? He wanted someone else and then didn't even let me know." Ken absently twisted the hem of his black T-shirt between cold fingers. "I thought that...I mean I didn't expect that we'd be together forever or anything but I guess I sorta _hoped_ maybe...I feel like such a dumbass now."

Schuldich slung his arm around Ken's shoulders. "The world's full of assholes and that's a fact of life. You're not the dumbass, that fucker is. If you were my boyfriend, I wouldn't let you go for anything, not even some dopey-eyed kid."

Ken snorted. "You don't even know me."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea."

He sighed again. "You don't have to do this you know."

"Do what?"

"Comfort me and all that." Ken pulled away. "I'm not a girl, I'm not gonna cry or anything. It was just a shock, seeing that kid here."

Jade eyes locked with his own. "I don't do anything I don't want to." 

"Yeah, well..." Ken looked away. "I appreciate it."

Schuldich stood up. "What do you say we forget all about this for a while and go visit your apartment? Then we can do anything you want to. My treat."

Ken managed a smile. "I'd like that."

~*~*~*~*~

There was a knock on the door. 

Ken froze in the act of feeding Plus Ninety-two, his beloved spider plant and threw Schuldich a panicked look. "Is it him?" he whispered, carefully setting down his watering jug.

Schuldich nodded. 

His heart rattled frantically inside his chest. "Oh God!" he blurted out.

Schuldich grabbed him roughly by the arm and nearly shoved him into the kitchen.

Ken was hysteric. "Why'd he hafta come here? I can't face him _now_! What am I gonna do? Hell I'm not ready for this crap!" 

The knocking grew louder. And then Yohji started to shout. "You in there Kenken? It's me, open up!"

Ken gripped at the counter hard. It hurt, to hear that affectionate nickname spoken so casually. As if everything was okay. As if they were still a couple. As if-

"You stay out of sight," Schuldich ordered. "I'll handle this."

"What? Why?" A thought struck him. "You're not gonna _hurt _ him, are you?"

One red brow arched. "Don't you think he deserves it?"

"Oh come off it! This isn't some soap op- "

"I know you're in there, Ken!" Yohji hollered, stilling banging away. "Today's your day off!"

Wide eyes flew to the German. "Did you hear that? He knows I'm here!" 

Schuldich patted Ken's head. "You just calm down and leave everything to me." He stalked out of the kitchen.

Ken could do nothing but comply. He ducked back into the living room and knelt down behind Up Forty, his enormous bougainvillea plant. His position allowed him to observe to door without being seen.

Schuldich strode towards the door while rapidly shedding his long, black coat and short-sleeved dress shirt.

Ken decided then that Schuldich helping him was a bad idea. "_What the hell are you doing?_" he screamed loudly in his mind.

~_Watch and learn kiddo._~

Schuldich yanked open the door.

"About time you-" Yohji abruptly stopped and stared.

The German's voice was hard and rude. "What the _fuck_ do you want?" 

Ken had a perfect view of a wide-eyed Yohji, his jaw dropping as he stared at a half-naked Schuldich. Inwardly, Ken had to smirk. He knew it was petty and childish but dammit, it served Yohji right. 

His eloquent, urbane ex began to stutter. It was something Ken had never seen Yohji do. Yohji was always so cool, so unruffled. Nothing ever really bothered him. And now, he was fumbling it up no better than Ken would. "Who...who are..." he trailed off, speechless.

"Who am I?" Schuldich casually leaned against the door.

Wordlessly, Yohji nodded.

"I'm Schuldich. A _friend_," Here he emphasized the word 'friend' in a decidedly _unfriendly_ way. "of Ken's."

That answer didn't seem please Yohji. "I mean, what the hell are _you_ doing here?" He was seething as he got over his initial shock. "And where's Ken?"

"You're asking a lot of questions Kudou."

Yohji peered down his glasses, his eyes narrowing. "How'd you know my name?"

Schuldich sneered. "I make it a point to keep track of all Ken's _ex_-boyfriends."

Ken had to forcibly quell the urge to gasp. "_I can't believe you just said that!_ " he thought.

_~I like to keep the ball in my court.~_

Schuldich succeeded in shocking Yohji for a second time. "_What_?!" He goggled for a few seconds before anger began to take over again. "Where the hell do you get off-"

"It's over Kudou," Schuldich interrupted dismissively. "Ken isn't too big on the idea of infidelity."

Yohji blanched and that was all Ken saw before Schuldich slammed the door and bolted it.

_~How's that for a dramatic last line?~_

Ken shook his head, a mixture of emotions swelling up inside him. "Pretty good," he muttered.

Schuldich peered through the peekhole in the door. "He's leaving."

Ken scrambled to his feet and sank down onto his sofa. "He's not even gonna try and stay? Not to justify himself or see me or give me-" 

"Because he _knows_." Schuldich leaned against the far wall and folded his arms. "He knows he fucked up and he's feeling guilty that he hurt you but he likes the kid a lot. More than like, really."

"Well that's good to hear," Ken grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He felt incredibly tired, all of a sudden. "As long as he _knows_."

"He'll be back. He was so stunned to see me and knowing that you know about the kid...the guy didn't know what to do. I could hear him planning to come back to talk to you."

"Great," Ken said unenthusiastically. "Breaking up is always a bunch of fun."

Cool green eyes assessed him. "Do you want to see him when he comes back here? Hear his side of the story and maybe forgive him?"

He never wanted to see Yohji again and yet he did. But forgiveness? That much he couldn't do. "I...I think it'll prolly be best if I don't see him. I can't forgive him and I don't think anything he can say will make me feel better."

Schuldich smiled. "You knew that last night but hearing him now and being back here brought back memories, didn't they? You don't need him Ken, you're fine on your own. Yohji shouldn't have a place in your life, not anymore."

Ken grinned wryly. "I wish you wouldn't read my mind."

"Hey, I'm on your side." Schuldich glanced at his watch. "Grab your stuff and let's book it. I'll treat you to lunch."

"I don't really feel like-"

"Tough."

Sighing, Ken gathered up his backpack and duffle bag. He gave his apartment one final look about before following Schuldich out the door.


	4. Part Four

Part Four 

"I don't give shit-_all_ what anyone thinks of me," Schuldich was saying. "If you have a problem with me then tough fucking luck. It's that simple Ken. I'm not gonna change myself or act like something I'm not just to impress people. I've always been that way and that's the way I'm staying. Society can suck my dick."

Schuldich had taken Ken to a posh French restaurant situated in Tokyo's foreign section. Surprisingly, Ken had genuinely enjoyed the fancy, exotic food and now they were lingering over coffee and dessert. At Ken's insistence, Schuldich was talking about his relationship with Bradley Crawford.

Ken snorted. "Literally or figuratively?"

"Bit of both, kiddo." The redhead grinned and took another sip of his coffee. "Brad's not like me. He's got this self-image _carved_ into his mind and nothing short of amnesia can dislodge it. I know 'cause I've tried _enough_ times. He's a control freak. Everything has to be done his way and that way's the only way. There's no room for argument because he's stubborn as shit. But then again, as far as I know I'm the only one who ever really argues with him. I can't see any of his business associates or clients arguing with him. He's really rigid and gives off this air of danger. He's not someone you'd wanna mess with. Pretty much, he's got zero conscience. You fuck with him, you're dead. It's that simple. He doesn't let _anyone_ stand in his way."

"Charming." Ken moodily poked at his rich raspberry chocolate praline dessert. He was getting more discouraged by the moment. This Brad Crawford guy reminded him of some sort of corrupt mob businessman. The thought of posing as Schuldich's _special_ friend was seriously creeping him out. Between going back home and trying to forget Yohji and getting tangled up with the likes of Crawford...well it didn't take a quantum physicist to know that the grand prize was hiding behind Door #1.

"Well he's not so bad with me," Schuldich amended, either ignoring Ken's thoughts or too busy talking to pay attention to them. "He actually _likes_ me. It's pretty flattering when you think about it since it's not like he likes a whole lot of people. I don't kiss up to him and I'm not afraid of him. Mostly I amuse him."

"And you're okay with that?" Ken wrinkled his nose. The idea of being someone's _amusement_ was abhorrent to him. "Sounds pretty sad, if you ask me."

Schuldich shrugged. "It's better than apathy. Or annoyance. Brad's a total workaholic. He hates when I come into his study and bother him. In his mind he gets all annoyed with me and thinks I'm like a kid or something."

"Why're you with him then?" He paused to finish the rest of his coffee. "He sounds like a first-class jerk."

"Same reason you stayed with that Ran character."

Ken sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of his icy, cynical ex-boyfriend. He remembered all too clearly how it had been. "You love Brad."

"Yeah, can't help who you love huh?" Schuldich winked as he took another spoonful of his frosted marble cheesecake. "The best guys always fall for the biggest assholes."

Ken shook his head, smiling ruefully. "Can't argue with that."

"It wasn't like I planned it," the German went on. "It just happened. There's something about Brad...he's got a compelling personality. If I can get through to him, we'd be great. He's good for me, like I am for him."

"Have you told him how you feel?"

"Brad's really image conscious and he doesn't do anything that isn't expected of him or that will ruin the name he's made from himself." A slight bitterness tinged Schuldich's voice. "Naturally that would include forming a long-time relationship with his gay lover. With the exception of Nagi, our relationship is a complete secret. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of personal writer to him or something. Lately he's been hanging around a lot with Emilia, the supermodel daughter of one of his Italian investors. Everyone seems to be thrilled with that alliance, except for me but in the grand scheme of things, what do I matter?"

"That's awful." Ken fiddled with his spoon, feeling acutely sorry for Schuldich. There was no doubting it now, Crawford was a complete _ass_.

"If he truly loved her then that'd be one thing but he doesn't. He's only holding up his image. So that's why I need to _do_ something. I'm not going to lose him. Brad and I are good together. I know his mind, hell I can fucking _read_ it, and I'm better for him than anyone else can ever be. That's why I need you; to help him realize it."

"Yeah but...I understand all that but _me_?" Ken made a face. "I don't know anything. I'm kinda clumsy and sorta nervous, I have a lot of phobias and I seriously doubt that someone like Brad will be jealous of someone like _me_. I mean you can do _way_ better, trust me."

"All he needs to see is how much fun we have together and how much I like you." Schuldich smiled over the rim of his coffee cup. "I like you a lot Ken and I know you like me. We can make this work. I won't let anything happen to you."

"But..." Ken sighed. "This is all so _unconventional_."

Schuldich shrugged. "I'm a gay foreigner in Tokyo. What else d'you expect?"

Ken had to laugh. "Crossdressing?"

"Hey, that can be arranged."

"Yeah, how 'bout no." 

~*~*~*~*~

As they made their way through the streets, packed with the afternoon crowds, Schuldich glanced over at his companion. "You didn't tell me about Brad's phone call."

Ken had forgotten about that delightful episode. "He scared the shit outta me," the younger boy confessed candidly. "Gods, even his _voice_ is scary."

The redhead was amused. "I love your honestly, Ken. Seriously, you're great."

Ken, never one able to accept compliments, flushed faintly and ignored it. "I'm not joking, the guy creeps me out! He asked where you were and I said you were gone someplace 'cause I kinda froze and then he asked who I was and I said nobody, just a friend and then there was this really long silence and he sounded all pissed off when he told me to tell you he called. I never wanna go through anything like that _again_!"

"You probably surprised the hell outta him," Schuldich replied laughing. "I knew this was gonna work!"

"If you make me talk to him again, the deal's off," Ken threatened. "He might hire his mob buddies to off me or something."

"He doesn't have any mob buddies." The German tapped his finger against Ken's temple. "Your imagination is getting the better of you, kiddo."

Ken wasn't convinced. "How do you know?"

"I have this little quirk where I can read mind." Schuldich skirted a lady laden with shopping bags and a stroller. "Sound familiar?" 

"Oh yeah." Color crept onto smooth cheeks. Why did he keep forgetting that? "Does Brad know that you can read minds?"

"I told him when we first met but he thought I was drunk." The German shrugged. "He doesn't believe in any 'occult voodoo shit' as he likes to call it."

"I didn't believe you at first either. That kinda stuff comes right outta X-Men comics." Ken brushed choppy bangs from his forehead. "But then you knew all that stuff about my past and what I was thinking."

"Yeah, well Brad's got his suspicions, like when I say something he was going to or suggest things that he's thinking. But admitting I'm telepathic would mean that he's wrong and he doesn't like to be wrong."

Ken rolled his eyes. "No offense or anything but I dunno _why_ you love this guy. He sounds like such a _jackass_."

"In life, sometimes you're the pigeon and sometimes you're the statue," Schuldich quoted philosophically. "I guess with Brad I'm the statue."

Ken thought about that as they waited at a crammed intersection for the light to change. "You don't deserve that," he offered finally and a little shyly.

Schuldich was pleased. 

~*~*~*~*~

"Are you sure about this?" Ken shuffled his feet nervously and kept his gaze trained firmly upon the marble flooring. "I really, really, _really_ don't like elevators Schuldich."

"Yes I'm sure and yes I know. You don't have to keep repeating yourself, I heard you the first fifty-seven times." 

Ken glared at the floor, imagining that Schuldich's face was down there so he could stomp on it. "Well it's easy for you to say! You're getting me into trouble, I hope you know that!"

Schuldich rolled his eyes. "You're a real wuss, you know that?"

"Well I'm sorry that my life is important to me!"

Schuldich's latest scheme was taking Ken on a trip to Brad's office. Apparently he thought it to be the height of intelligence for Brad's coworkers, employees and garrulous, gossipy secretary to see him with a clearly out of place, unknown boy. Already they had run into a number of people who'd observed them with interest since Schuldich insisted they stand _extremely_ close together. And as if _that_ hadn't bad enough, Brad's office was located in a glassed skyscraper on the thirty-eighth floor. Not only was Ken scared of heights, he had an acute phobia of elevators. 

Shit squared, as Yohji used to say.

"Just relax," Schuldich advised. "Nothing's going to happen to you."

"Easy for you to say." Ken's stomach dipped and curled again. "What floor are we on anyways?"

The redhead looked and saw they were heading towards the ninth floor. "Uh, we're coming along." He shifted closer to the younger boy and put his arm around his shoulder. "I won't let anything happen to you. I still need you in one piece. After this week...well that's a different story."

Ken buried his ashen face into Schuldich's shoulder. "Your concern is overwhelming."

To Ken, a lifetime seemed to pass before the elevator finally reached floor thirty-eight.

"Finally," he muttered, stumbling out and still grasping onto Schuldich. 

"Halfway done," Schuldich remarked and tousled coffee-colored hair. He led Ken down the ornate hallway. 

The Japanese boy was too busy cursing Schuldich and making sure that the contents of his stomach remained there, to notice their surroundings. They approached a lavish secretarial area which stood before two gigantic, intricately carved, Mahogany doors. Brad's secretary Reiko was a tiny, attractive lady with short black hair and thin glasses. Her eyes were quick to notice the young, casually-dressed boy who was clinging tightly to Schuldich. _Hugging_, one might say, if one were to be bold.

"What a surprise, Schuldich-san!"

At the sound of the high-pitched, irritably cute voice, Ken hastily jerked apart from the redhead, an action that did not escape Reiko's keen vision.

"Mr. Crawford's sent me to fetch some files and things from his office," Schuldich lied easily. "We'll only be a few moments, if you don't mind Reiko."

Reiko's eyes darted between Ken and Schuldich. "And _he_ is...?"

"Oh just an...ahh...an acquaintance. A _close_ friend really."

Ken didn't know whether to be disgusted or amused at Schuldich's deliberate and suspicious ambiguity.

"I see." Reiko looked like she couldn't wait to jump on the phone and announce to the world that it seemed Mr. Crawford's personal writer was _gay_ and had a _boyfriend_!

Schuldich breezed past her, walking much too close to Ken yet again, and unlocked those huge doors.

"After you," he said in a voice loud enough for Reiko to catch on to.

"Talking about hamming it up," Ken muttered as he stepped into the office.

Ken had expected that Brad's office would be lavish and he wasn't mistaken. The room was enormous and decorated with dark, paneled wood, thick, carpeted floors, sculptures, rare paintings and exotic plants. There was a sitting area to the left with brocade sofas, wing chairs and a bar. Brad's desk was gigantic and filled with gleaming, black technological equipment. The wall behind the desk was simply a window, affording the room with a spectacular view of Tokyo.     

"Shits, this is some office," Ken commented, still looking around with wide eyes. 

Schuldich snapped the door shut behind him and grinned. "Reiko's a sucker for gossip. She's gonna be blabbing about this for weeks to come."

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying this." Ken scowled. "Brad's not gonna _kill_ you."

"Quit worrying." The German gently chucked him under the chin before heading towards the large bookshelf dominating the western wall. He pulling books out at random. "This is all part of my plan."

Ken was still nervous. "Aren't there like security cameras and stuff in here? What if Brad sees this?"

"That's the point Kenny boy." Setting down his stack of books, Schuldich began pulling out files of paper from Brad's desk.

"Don't call me that." Ken watched with growing apprehension. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea. I mean, are you allowed to touch his desk and stuff?"

Schuldich looked up and gave him an annoyed look. "Two words Ken, _shut_ _up_. I know what I'm doing. Just trust me okay?"

Ken fumed but remained silent. Naturally it was alright for Schuldich to talk, no one was gonna hurt _him_. Ken didn't like the sound of Brad at all and he wouldn't put it past the American to get severely pissed off and take action.

Eventually Schuldich had gathered everything he wanted to take announced that there work was done. He shoved half the book pile into Ken's arms.

"What d'you need so many books for?"

"Silence peasant!" Schuldich rolled his eyes. "You complain a lot, you know that?"

"And you're mentally challenged, do _you_ know _that_?"

"You're also pretty cute, for a whiner." He held open the door for Ken. "Let's get going, we've still got a ton of places to visit."

Ken groaned. The guy was seriously deranged.

_~I heard that~_

Oh yeah, Schuldich could read minds. How come he couldn't remember that.

"I think you're the one who needs help kiddo."

Ken put forth his soccer skills and kicked the German. "I don't appreciate your verbal abuse."

Schuldich winced. As they walked past Reiko's desk, he said loudly, "But you do appreciate my _physical_ abuse."

Ken wanted to die.


	5. Part Five

Part Five 

The afternoon dragged on worse than a soap opera and in Ken's humble opinion, it was twice as pointless. Schuldich made a production of parading him around all of Brad's hotspots like some kind of pseudo-trophy wife. It was embarrassing and none of Ken's complainings and whinings swayed the German in the least. The guy, Ken quickly learned, was stubborn as _shit_. Either that or just too damn stupid to know when to give up. In any case, Schuldich was determined to show Brad that he didn't really need him...when clearly he did. And since it was pretty much pointless to argue, Ken allowed himself to be traipsed through Tokyo's foreign business district with great reluctance while blaring out graphic death threats in his mind for Schuldich to hear. That provided amusement for some time but even threats of multiple lacerations and disembowelment could tire after fifty plus times. So he went back to complaining and whining.

And then, _finally_ it was done with.

"What a great afternoon," Schuldich commented as they wove their way through the crowded streets. "Brad's gonna be so _pissed_."

"Yeah well that makes two of us," Ken grumbled with great feeling. He shoved his bangs from his forehead and sighed. It had turned into a bloody _hot_ afternoon.  

"You're done for today," Schuldich assured, stopping by the curb. He hailed at a passing taxicab before seeing that it was full. "I just need to pick up some papers for Brad and then we can do whatever you want."

Ken perked up at that. "I wanna go back home and play PlayStation for a few hours! I miss all my WWE wrestling games. I wanna play Smackdown III."

"Simple times for a simple boy." Schuldich shook his head. "Needless to say, I'm not surprised."

"Oh like your life is such an exemplary prototype," Ken retorted, scoffing. "Seriously, who goes cavorting around with some no-name trying to make their significant other jealous? Talk about your dumb-and-a-half schemes."

"I'm taking a creative approach to the situation," the German replied calmly. Clearly, he was unfazed. "It's all about dignity Ken. I refuse to hurl myself at Brad's feet, sobbing and begging for attention. He needs to know what he's missing."

A mental picture of Schuldich hamming it up on the floor made Ken grin. "He probably _knows_ what he's missing and that's why he's copping out. Who'd want a paranormal psycho adding clutter to the background?"

"_Clutter_? You really know how to wound me Ken." Schuldich patted his chest. "Gets me right here, old boy."

Ken snorted. "Your heart's on the other side genius."

One red brow arch, mildly surprised. "So you _do_ have a double-digit IQ number. I'm quite impressed."

"You're not funny jackass!"

"I don't expect a simple guy like you to be able to appreciate all my intellectual witticisms...of which I have _many_."

Ken stuck his tongue out. "Doesn't sound like Brad does either."

A passing taxicab finally slowed down for them. "But he will," Schuldich promised, determination glinting in his eyes.

"You suck," Ken announced, shoving the redhead out of the way. He entered the car first and sighed. It was air-conditioned and it felt great to sit down after all that pointless walking. 

Schuldich slid in after him and gave the sullen-faced driver directions.

Ken arranged his schoolbag comfortably next to him. "You know what I think?"

Schuldich leaned back against the leather upholstery. "You think? That's news to me."

He ignored that. "I think you need a hobby or something. This obsession what Brad is unhealthy."

"Tell me more psychology man," Schuldich said, smirking. 

"You're obsessed with a jerk," Ken lectured. "Maybe stamp collecting or buried treasure digging will help alleviate the pressure. Do something productive. Volunteer. Help the poor. Go to-"

"I'm helping you aren't I?" Schuldich tousled his hair.

"You know what I mean," Ken huffed, jerking his head away.

"Not really. Before I start up with the excess of philanthropy, I need to help myself. And you've agreed to help me, in case you've forgotten."

"It just seems so pointless," Ken countered. "I mean if you're gonna-"

"You don't know Brad," Schuldich interrupted. "He possessive."

"Well there's a load off my mind," Ken grumped. "He can get his mob buddies to arrange an 'accident' for me and there goes our deal."

Schuldich laughed. "You're cute when you pout."

Ken pouted. "I don't pout dickwad."

"Brad doesn't like it when people call me names "

Ken leaned back and groaned. "I should just call my mom now and tell her to start making funeral arrangements."

"I can recommend some people," Schuldich supplied helpfully. "It's happened before you know...Brad killing people I don't like."

Ken glowered hotly. "I hate you." 

~*~*~*~*~

The papers Schuldich needed to pick up for Brad were held by someone who worked inside one of Tokyo's largest shopping malls. Schuldich said nothing about who this person was or where they worked or what the papers were and Ken figured that it wasn't his place to ask, despite the fact that he was wildly curious. Schuldich simply told him to meet him in front of the bookshop at the mall's front entrance in a half an hour. Then he strode off.

The mall was gigantic and Ken, never really one for directions, soon found himself lost. He wandered past dozens of stores, through thick groups of shoppers and tried not to notice how happy everyone looked. Really, it was pointless to think about Yohji but now that Schuldich wasn't around to distract him, Ken found that his thoughts kept returning to his ex. He knew it was pathetic, it wasn't like he had plans to be with Yohji _forever_, but still. They'd had good times together and Yohji was a caring, thoughtful person...or so he'd thought. He could have fallen in love with the blond and that was something that scared him. Was his judgment so off that he'd only fall for guys who used and hurt him? Was he secretly a sucker for pain?

Sighing, Ken found himself heading towards the nearest payphones and he hated himself for it.

"You're such a fucking spaz," he muttered, digging through his schoolbag for money.

He shoved money into the phone and held his breath as he waited to check his answering machine. He had to know whether Yohji had phoned him, had to know whether he was even _sorry_ or wanted to explain or-

"Ken?"

Ken's heart vaulted into his throat and he was breathless, as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Yohji's voice filtered through and it surprised him, partially because he didn't _think_ Yohji would phone him and partially because he _hoped_ that he would. 

Fuck he was pathetic.

"Ken...are you there? Please pick up if you are. We need to talk. I need to...I sorry Ken. Believe that if you can't believe anything else. Please...I want...I _need_ to explain. Call me back soon?"

Clenching his eyes shut, Ken let his forehead bang down softly against the wall behind the payphone. Relief washed over him just as clearly as disappointment did. Yohji wanted to talk to him, he was sorry...that was what he _wanted_, wasn't it?

But the surprises weren't over.

Just as Ken was getting his bearings back, about to hang up the phone, another voice spoke up. It was a quiet, familiar voice that he never thought he'd hear again.

Gooseflesh broke out onto his arms and to say he was shocked was the biggest understatement of the year. Yohji's voice had made him weak-kneed but this, this was enough to render him damn well _comatose_.

"Ken this is Ran. My number's still the same. Phone me when you get a chance, please."

Fujimiya Ran. His ex-boyfriend previous to Yohji. The cold, silent man with whom Ken had fallen for, fast and hard. Ran sounded exactly the same, with impassive words that bordered upon curt. His tone revealed nothing, like always. It was as though time stood still and nothing had changed.

Ken slammed the phone down, unable to help his shaking fingers.

It was the 'please' that did it. 'Please' wasn't a word Ran used often and for him to use it now was the only indication that he wanted to speak to Ken badly.

"Fuck," he whispered and without thinking he was sliding more money into the phone while fumbling through his pockets for the paper Schuldich had given him. He yanked out the crumpled piece of paper and hastily dialed Schuldich's cell phone. Schuldich's voicemail came on instead and Ken plowed through with a rushed, breathy message that sounded incredibly lame.

"It's me, Ken. I'm sorry if you waited for me but I had to go back to my apartment. Something came up. I'd rather you didn't stop by. Um...I guess I'll phone you later then."

As he headed towards the escalators, Ken carefully _didn't_ think about why he was leaving or why he felt the need to talk to both Yohji and Ran from the safety of his own home. He just knew that he needed to be alone. He didn't want Schuldich reading all his stupid thoughts and watching as he made a fool of himself. But despite his best efforts, one thought echoed in his mind for the entire trip home.

What _could_ Ran want with him?


	6. Part Six

Part Six 

"Where'd your rent-a-boy disappear off to?" Nagi turned on the hot water and began rinsing the stack of soapy dishes piled high in the sink. "Got too sick of you? Well that's hardly surprising. If I was him I wou-"

"Yeah well you're not him," Schuldich interrupted, pinching Nagi's cheeks. He knew how much the boy hated that. 

Nagi yanked his chin away, glowering. "Fuck off assclown!"

"And he's _not_ a rent-a-boy," Schuldich added, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. 

Farfarello, who'd been sitting placidly at the kitchen table and peeling the skin off red grapes, looked up with some interest. "His name is Ken," the Irish man offered. "He told me. He likes to iron. He told me that too."

"We know, we know," Nagi grumbled, nosily stuffing a dripping glass into the crowded dish rack to dry. "The way you keep going on about him, it's like he's _your_  pretend boyfriend."

Farfarello blinked but his interest in the conversation had vanished. He pushed his finger into a particularly large grape and mushed it about.

Schuldich was amused, both by Nagi's childish display of jealousy and Farfarello's visible disinterest. "Are we jealous, Nagi-kid?" 

"Don't call me that." Nagi scowled petulantly. "I'm _not_ jealous and besides it's not like _you're_ one to talk. You're so jealous of that Emilia model girl you came up with this whole dumb scheme with Ken!"

Farfarello looked up. "Yelling can break plates. It happens on cartoons."

"And clearly we're not in a cartoon." Schuldich sat down across from Farfarello and took a drink of juice. "Bard's a fool. He needs to realize that other people's opinion don't mean shit. He should do what he wants, not what's expected of him. Who gives a shit? He's rich, he can sue."

Nagi snorted. "You know that Brad hates when you call him '_Bard_'."

Schuldich shrugged, unconcerned. "I like to think about how humourous a bard-Brad would be. Quoting it up with the old 'how I love thee let me count the ways' outside my balcony window with a lute...how much more amusing can you get?"

Nagi had to snicker. "Yeah keep dreaming. If you're lucky Brad'll send you an e-mail...poetry _not_ included." He rinsed off the last plate and turned off the tap. "I already told you what I think of this stupid charade. You know how stubborn Brad is. It'll take a damn near miracle for him-"

"I saw a miracle," Farfarello interrupted, licking grape juice from his colorless fingers. "It was on TV. A lady saw Buddha in a loaf of cheese. It was a _big_ loaf."

Nagi sat down beside his boyfriend and hugged his arm. "Loaf of _bread_," he corrected, sneaking a grape.

"No I don't want that," Farfarello said politely. "Breads have holes in them. I don't like my food holey."

Schuldich rolled his eyes. "Hardly anyone does."

"So where is Ken?" Nagi asked. "I thought you wanted him to stay here."

"That was the plan," Schuldich answered. "I don't know what exactly what happened. We went to the mall, split up and then he left a message on my cell saying that he needed to go back to his apartment because something came up. He said he didn't want me stopping by."

Nagi's eyes were wide. "Sounds mysterious. Maybe he's in trouble or maybe he changed his mind!"

"Maybe he doesn't like you," Farfarello put in. "Maybe he wanted to go home and iron."

"Yeah that's it," Schuldich said dryly.

Nagi patted Farfarello's arm. "It's probably for the best. I can't see Brad being jealous of _Ken_. He seemed nice enough but not your type at all."

"What do you know about my type?" Schuldich finished his juice and shoved the glass onto the table with a sharp _thud_. "I'm telling you, Ken's perfect. He's gonna be-"

The phone rang.

"Phooooooone," Farfarello chanted and threw a grape at the fridge.

Nagi shook his head as he headed towards the phone in the living room. "That's probably-"

Schuldich grabbed Nagi's arm. "It's Bard," he told the boy confidently. "Tell him I'm gone out with Ken. Make it theatrical."

"Aw come on-"

"Do you want me to get into your thoughts and talk _for_ you?"

"Four is two twice and that's the truth," Farfarello mumbled around a mouthful of red grapes.

Nagi stuck his lower lip out and pouted. "Fine but you _own_ me. And stay outta my mind. You know how much I hate that!"

"Whatever." Schuldich pushed the boy towards the phone. "Just answer and make it good!"

Nagi glared daggers at him but obediently picked up the phone. 

Schuldich flopped down onto the sofa and picked up a magazine. He began to leisurely flip through it, giving off the air of casual indifference. The inclination to jump into Nagi's mind was overwhelming but Schuldich forcibly quelled the urge. While most people remained oblivious when he chose to poke around in their mind, Nagi did not. His mind was extremely sharp and the kid recognized his presence instantly, even he when was utterly silent and cloaked. 

The phone was a cordless and Nagi, still glaring at him, moved off by the window to talk to Brad. Farfarello wandered into the living room a couple of seconds later and sat down beside Schuldich.

"I ate all the grape except some," the Irish man intoned. He yanked his sketchbook off the glass coffee table and began doodling with his finger on a blank page.

"Yeah good one," Schuldich said distractedly, his eyes glued to Nagi. He tried to read the look on the boy's face and failed.

"My next painting will be made from crumpled envelopes, copper plastic and fishhooks."

Schuldich tore his gaze from Nagi. "What the hell's copper plastic?"

Farfarello gave him a look that suggested he was visibly insane. "It's plastic made out of copper," he told him in a highly condescending tone. "I'm going to make Ken."

Schuldich grinned and shook his head. "You like Ken don't you?"

"He's a good boyfriend for you," Farfarello said in what was a rare bout of lucidity. "He irons."

"I'm aware of that."

"I never thought I'd say this," Nagi declared, sticking the phone back into its cradle. He flopped down on Schuldich's other side. "But I think your stupid scheme might _actually_ be working!"

Schuldich smirked. "Now tell me what I don't know."

"Brad didn't even ask how I was or start badgering me with a hundred questions about the apartment and school like he usually does," Nagi reported. "He didn't even say hello! All he did was demand where you were. He was even using his super-pissed voice!"

"Dear ol' Bard's jealous," Schuldich proclaimed with great satisfaction. He leaned back against the pliable leather and looked smug.

"Jelloooooo," Farfarello chimed in. "I will make a sculpture of Jello. It will be of Godzilla fighting Mothra."

They both ignored him.

"I told him you were out with some guy you just met at the 'Electropolis' and then there was this silence before he started grilling me. What did the guy look like, where did you meet him, where did you guys go, what was his name and blah blah." Nagi laughed. "It was kind of funny actually. He sounded like mom or something. But I guess you covered your bases because he'd already heard about Ken. Reiko's been gushing like anything about how cute you and Ken were and I guess some of his associates here saw you with Ken and remarked that you looked happy and that they knew you were gay. Brad was practically seething but you know how he is. The more pissed off he is, the colder his voice gets. He sounded like he wanted to murder you!"

"I murdered once." Farfarello nodded, lest they doubted. "It was with a rusty toothpick."

"I knew this would work," Schuldich gloated, propping up his feet onto the coffee table. "Bard's possessive. It's okay for him to date it up in the name of his work but the other way around isn't so sweet. He thinks he's got everything figured out and then I do this. He must be fuming. You know how he has to have every situation under his control."

"Yeah that's true," Nagi agreed. "But jealousy's still a long way from affection. I wouldn't get too excited though. It's _Brad_ we're talking about. He's like emotionally stunted or something."

"Well I'll take jealousy and pissed off over indifference and apathy any day." Schuldich shrugged. "I've still got a week before he comes back. I'll make this work."

Farfarello frowned down at his sketchbook. "This book doesn't work."

~*~*~*~*~

Ken picked up the phone and pressed exactly four numbers with his shaking index finger before slamming the phone down. His heart was racing and he felt like ten kinds of a shitty fool. Glancing at his bedside alarm clock, he saw that he had been sitting in his room for the past twelve minutes, working up the courage to phone Ran back.

"I'm such a lame-ass," he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair agitatedly.

The phone rang.

"Aahhh!"

Clearly startled, Ken jumped to his feet, dropped the phone, picked it up and fumbled with the receiver. He managed to retain his grasp on the phone and without thought blurted into the receiver, "Ran?"

"Ken?"

Ken managed not to gasp out loud like a moron. The unexpected familiarity of the voice on the line made him to feel slightly lightheaded. He plopped back down onto his bed. "Yohji?"

Yohji's voice was cool. "Expecting someone else were you?"

For a few moments Ken sat there in silence, utterly _stunned_. His fingers tightened around the phone and when he found his voice, it was equally as cool. "Tell me _you_ aren't sitting there trying to pass judgment onto _me_."

Yohji had the grace to sound faintly contrite. "Ken I-"

"Because it's a bit too late for _that_ old shit, wouldn't you agree?"

There was a silence. Ken was frowning fiercely, getting more annoyed off as the seconds passed.

"So you've gone back to Ran then?" 

Brown eyes widened and he was simply _unable_ to believe Yohji's gall. What a fucking assclown the guy was! Yohji had _no_ right to pry into his business, not after what _he'd_ done! "How the hell is that any of your business?"

"Ken I'm sorry," Yohji said quietly. "Everything that happened was unexpected. I _never_ meant to hurt you. You have to believe me when I say that. I know your past, I know about-"

"Shut up," Ken whispered. His heart was pounding very fast and anger was quickly rising to the surface. "Just shut up."

"I would never intentionally hurt you Ken. You know Ran's a total asshole," Yohji continued doggedly. "Don't go back to him. The things he did...Ken you deserve so-"

"Oh fuck you!" Ken exploded, seething. He couldn't remember the last time he was so _pissed off_. "This is fucking rich, coming from you! Who the hell do you think you are? You gave up any and _all_ rights to give me advice when you decided to suck face with that little kid!"

"That was a mistake. It never meant to happen and I'm so sorry that-"

"That I found out?"

"It happened without any warning," Yohji answered, his voice still soft. "I was going to tell you as soon as I figured things out. After everything we've been through, everything I know about you, I could never hurt you, not intentionally."

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Ken had to ask. "What were you going to tell me when you figured everything out?"

Yohji hesitated but didn't lie. "I was going to break if off, Ken. I'm sorry but Omi needs me. He's completely alone and I can't let him down. What happened between us, it's intense. I don't know how else to describe it. He's what I've been looking for. I thought I had it in you but it wasn't there. I'm sorry Ken. You don't need me, you never really did. You're too strong to let this drown you."

Ken clenched his eyes shut for a moment. The anger drained away, leaving him with an empty ache inside. "You mean I can handle being dumped. It's happened enough times already right?"

"Ken..."

"I don't need you to sugarcoat the truth for me Yohji." Ken was suddenly tired. He sighed. "At least you were honest with me. It's done now."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this, Ken. I won't ever forget you. If I could come by to see-"

Ken had to force the words out before he made a blubbering fool of himself. "Good-bye Yohji."

With trembling fingers, he put the phone down. It was a long time before he moved.


	7. Part Seven

Part Seven 

It was the sound his stomach growling that finally roused Ken from his slump. He saw that it was exactly six o'clock and sighed. The day had gone by so quickly with Schuldich and now it seemed that it would never end. He trudged into the kitchen and automatically set about making something to eat for dinner. He tried not to think about his conversation with Yohji, but naturally that was next to impossible.

He'd been dumped yet again...time number three. How fucking depressing. Something had to be wrong with him, something he didn't know about. Kase had only used him to further himself in both school and on the soccer team, Ran had found him too childish and clingy and didn't want to commit any further, and Yohji had found someone else. Maybe he was incapable of being loved. He was too plain, too lame, too 'boy-next-door'.

Ken ate his food mechanically and told himself repeatedly that he didn't care. Lots of people lived alone and they got on great. What the hell did he need all this relationship shit for? He wasn't going to grieve, he _was_ strong. He didn't need anyone, he would be fine on his own. And like Yohji said, it wasn't like this was anything _new_ to him.

It didn't really make him feel better, all these assertive resolutions but he kept the illusion up all the same. He finished eating, cleaned up the kitchen and went to fetch the phone. Surely what Ran had to say couldn't make things any _worse_ could he? And in the end, what the hell did it matter? He was nothing more than a loser anyways.

Ken dialed without hesitation and held his breath as the phone rang.

Ran answered on the fourth ring.

He flopped down onto the sofa, his heart was racing. It annoyed him. He spoke curtly. "It's Ken."

"Ken." Ran's voice softened a notch. "Hi."

"What do you want?"

Ran was clearly startled by his abrupt tone. "I just wanted..." he cleared his throat. "Do you remember Aya?"

Ken blinked at the mention of Ran's little sister. "Yeah, of course. How is she?"

"She's not-"

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

"Aw fuck."

"Excuse me?"

Ken coughed slightly. He hadn't realized that he'd cursed out loud. "Not you. Sorry, I didn't...uh there's someone at the door. Just hold on." He put the phone down on the table and darted across the living room to answer the door. 

"I need laundry detergent," the attractive, leggy brunette announced, sweeping past him. She left a cloud of Boysenberry perfume in her wake.

Ken closed the door behind Birman, feeling equal parts relief and annoyance. Birman, who was his oldest and probably best friend, lived across the hall from him. They'd known each other since grade school and she was like an older sister to him. She was a shrewd, wry, pessimistic cynic who loathed men, society, old people and herself, in that order. As far as Ken knew, the only person she genuinely liked was him. Because her own life was, as she so eloquently liked to put it, 'a shitfest and a half', she made it her duty to meddle in all aspects of his life. It was exasperating though strangely touching.

"I fucking _hate_ laundry," Birman continued. "It pisses me off. Why the fuck do-"

"Keep it down," Ken ordered, annoyed. He picked up the phone and put his hand over the receiver. "I'm on the phone."

Birman frowned as she assessed him. "With who?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. "It's someone important, I can tell."

"It's Ran," he hissed. "Now go!"

"Ran? What the fuck does that bastard want?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out!"

Birman rolled her eyes. "Quit spazzing, I'm leaving. Just don't agree to anything stupid. You know what a fucker that guy is." She gave him her infamous 'obey-me-now-I'm-never-wrong' stare before heading into the kitchen to eavesdrop.

"Sorry," he told Ran, sitting back down. "That was just Birman."

"I see."

There was an awkward pause.

"I'm calling for Aya," Ran said finally. "A couple of nights ago she was in an accident. She was crossing the street at night and a drunk driver hit her."

Ken swallowed. He and Aya had got along well. She was a great kid. "Will-will she be okay?"

"Eventually. She's broken a few bones and suffered head wounds so it'll take a while before she's completely healed." Ran hesitated and sounded as though he was forcing his words out. "I wonder if you'd come to the hospital to visit her."

Ken was stunned at the request. "You want me to come see her?"

"_She_ would like that," Ran replied coldly, emphasizing the first word.

Immediately, Ken's cheeks burned with humiliation. Why did he always have to speak without thinking? "I'd like that too," he managed in a steady tone. "What hospital is she staying in?"

Ran gave him the appropriate information. "I appreciate this Ken," he said afterwards in a faintly raspy voice.

"Yeah okay," Ken muttered and hung up.

He _so_ didn't need this right now! Naturally he was worried about Aya, he liked her a lot and he wanted to see her but that would mean playing up the old charade again and answering questions he didn't want to answer. At Ran's insistence, they'd kept their relationship a secret. The two of them had been assigned roommates in first year university and had ended up in a relationship which had spanned about a year. Ran had decided to 'protect' his little sister by keeping her from the fact that he was more queer than a bipolar Mongolian taxidermist. After their breakup Aya had called Ken constantly, wondering why he had moved into an apartment  and why he didn't hang out with Ran anymore. He'd lied a lot and since he'd had taken the next year off from university to work, he had used that as an excuse. In that manner, he hadn't seen or heard from either Aya and Ran in better than a year.

In all honesty, Ran was the _last_ person he wanted to see right now.

Sighing loudly and cursing fate, Ken slogged into the kitchen. 

Birman was leaning against the fridge looking lithe and impossibly attractive as she sipped a cup of steaming coffee. "Well? What the hell did Ice Queen want?"

Ken sank down at the kitchen table. "Aya was in an accident and he wants me to stop by to see her."

Birman snorted. "He'd do anything for that little twerp. No wonder he had commitment problems, he's practically married to his fucking _sister_."

"That's sick! He just really cares for her. Ever since their parents died, he had-" 

"Oh don't start up with that old sob story," Birman interrupted, looking disgusted. "So he looked after her, big fucking deal. That doesn't give him the right to treat you like shit. I haven't forgotten what he did to you."

"Well I haven't forgotten either," Ken said testily. "But I'm not going to let all that stand in the way. Aya needs me. She was in a friggin' accident!"

"Yeah well cry me a goddamn river."

"What did she ever do to you?"

"I can't stand teenyboppers like her," Birman informed him, sipping her coffee. "She was obnoxiously cute, way too fucking perky and her high-pitched, giggly voice made me wanna gauge my eyes out."

"She wasn't that bad," Ken contradicted. "You just hate everyone!"

"People are fucktards and the sooner you realize everyone sucks, the happier you'll be."

Ken rolled his eyes. "Like you?"

"Exactly. I _own_ all." She grinned. "You're lucky you've got someone as brilliant and all-knowing like me in your life, otherwise you'd be in deep shit." She came and sat down across from him. "And speaking of deep shit, Yohji's gonna be ass-pissed when he finds out you're gonna go meet up with Ran. You know how much he hates that guy. Not that I can blame him, your Ex was a dickweed of the high-"

"Yohji dumped me." It sounded even more pathetic out loud than it did in his mind.

Birman narrowed her eyes and looked furious. "Explain."

He did, starting with following Yohji to the 'Electropolis' and ending with leaving Schuldich at the mall. To her credit, Birman didn't interrupt him once. She kept quiet, though he could see that it was with great effort, and sat there scowling as he talked. He'd barely finished talking when she smacked him upside the head. _Hard_.

"OWWW!" Ken rubbed at his head and glared at her. "What did-" 

"Are you fucking _retarded_?" She spat the words at him in an irate growl, her eyes flashing. "What the hell is wrong with you? You don't even _know_ this German guy, don't know shit-_all_ about him and still you decided to go traipsing back to his apartment and stay the night? What the fuck happened to your common sense? How goddamn _stupid_ are you? You could be fucking dead right now! I can't believe you agreed to his stupid scheme! He could be some kind of _murderer_ for all we know!"

Ken stared at Birman, speechless for the moment. If the truth be told, he hadn't about thought of the dangers Schuldich might have possessed. He'd been depressed over seeing proof of Yohji's infidelities and relieved to get away from the gang of tough guys that had threatened him in the alleyway, that he hadn't really taken Schuldich's motives into account. The German had saved him afterall...and beyond that he could read minds. That in itself had been amazement enough for Ken. He cleared his throat. "I guess I never thought about all that," he said slowly, inwardly wincing at how lame he sounded. "I mean he saved me and then he could read my mind and he took-"

"The guy claims to have fucking _powers_ and you're not at all worried?"

"Well he knew all kinds of shit," Ken defended himself halfheartedly. "He knew about Ran and Kase and soccer and my-"

"Oh who the hell cares what he knows!" Birman exploded, thumping down her mug violently. Coffee splashed onto the table. "The point is that you're a fucktard! How can you just go off with some psycho who-"

"First of all, I'm an adult," Ken informed her testily. He hated when Birman gave him lectures and acted like he was some stupid kid who couldn't manage to tie his shoes without her lofty assistance. She was only three years older than him for frig's sake! "I can handle myself. And second of all, I just saw Yohji kissing someone else. What else would you expect? I wasn't thinking rationally so stop yelling at me. I don't appreciate it."

Birman softened and patted his hand. "I worry about you Ken, you know that. You're the only person in this social shitfest I gave a crap about." Her eyes narrowed suddenly and she seethed, her calm mood evaporation as quickly as it had come. "As for Yohji, he's gonna wish he was born without a dick by the time I'm through with him! And that goes double for this German punk. I'll bust his nuts if he hurts you!"

"He can read minds," Ken reminded her. He had to grin. It was hard to stay annoyed with Birman for too long, especially when she told him things like he was the only one she gave a damn about. Her protectiveness towards him was rather flattering actually, though he saw no reason to feed her ago and let her know it.

"Then he'll know exactly what kind of trouble he's gonna be in!" She folded her arms across her breasts and scowled. "Next time you see him, I'm coming too."

"Oh no you're not," Ken cried. He could only imagine the scene she'd cause. Birman was all about scenes. She loved embarrassing others. "I already told you, I can handle myself. You're _not_ my friggin' mom."

"And you're _not_ capable of ass-kicking," Birman accused. "You're way too nice. You're a pussy. But I'm not. I'm a hard-hitting bitch. I'll let your telepathic buddy know who he's dealing with."

"Why don't you go take a hike?" Ken suggested brashly. "Seriously, go home. I'm not a kid, okay? I don't need you."

But Birman was Birman and that meant being stubborn as shit. She never did anything just because someone _told_ her to and she wasn't about to start now. Ken knew that but he figured it wouldn't hurt to _ask_. She gave him a dirty look.

"You could be more appreciative you know," she snapped. "There are people who _pay_ to have tough-ass bodyguards like me."

"You're _meddling_," he corrected. "And I don't need it." He got up, fetched the box of laundry detergent he kept under the sink and thrust it at her. "Knock yourself out. You know how important laundry is so get to it. I have stuff to do."

She took the detergent and gave him a deeply suspicious look. "You're going to the hospital aren't you?"

"So what? Frig, why're you making it sound so accusatory? I told Ran I'd go and I will!"

"I'm coming with you."

"Oh hell!" Ken exploded. "What is wrong wit-"

"The last thing I want is for you to come home and say to me," Here she developed a high-pitched falsetto that sounded _nothing_ like him. "_Me and Ran hooked up_ _again_! I know you Ken, you're soft." 

"Gimme some damn credit will you?" He rolled his eyes. "Like I'm stupid. After the shitty way he treated me, yeah I don't think so. I'm not that weak."

Birman didn't look convinced. "You really loved him at one point and that's why I'm coming with you. I don't trust you and I don't want to see you get hurt."

Ken sighed very loudly. Why did he even bother? Birman was like a friggin' brick wall. "Fine," he spat grouchily. "But you better stay out of the way and if you embarrass me or are rude to Aya than I'm not ever gonna talk to you again!"

She smiled sweetly. "You're the boss."

If only that was true.

Author's Note 

Hey peoples. Just me with a quick note. I think that I pretty much butchered Birman's character but it was done conscientiously. I know that in the comic she's way more feisty than in the series but I don't think she was quite as hard as I made her. I also forgot what her real name was but oh well. I could have used Manx but her hair annoys me and none of the Schrient chicks seemed right so I stuck with Birman 'cause she's hot and cool. Whatever, she's not the main character so gives a crap. And to everyone who's read and reviewed, I thank you a zillion times and you all get cookies! You guys are the best fans ever.


	8. Part Eight

Part Eight 

"Whoa check his ass!" Despite the fact that they were now walking down the hallowed hallways of the hospital, Birman clearly saw no reason to keep her voice down and behave with decorum. "All these doctors are so friggin' hot!"

"Would you shut up already?" Ken hissed as an elderly lady attached to an IV gave them a dirty look. "We're in a hospital not a friggin' club!"

"Believe me I know." Birman adopted a saucy swagger as they turned a corner and passed by a cluster of men in green scrubs examining a clipboard. She caught the eye of a particularly cute doctor and winked.

Ken was disgusted. "For someone who supposedly hates men, you're doing a pretty good job pimping yourself around."

Pouty lips curved into a smirk. "It's the sex I like, not the men."

"Be a lesbian then, if you hate guys so much." 

"Yeah but I like what you like." She made an obscene gesture. "Throbbing manmeat and _balls_."

Ken wrinkled his nose and made a face. "You're friggin' disgusting."

"Humane society is disgusting," Birman declared. "By nature people are disgusting. The whole goddamn world is disgusting. The only difference between me and everyone else is that I don't try to hide it. Why fight inherent qualities, that's what I say."

"Spare me the lectures." He scowled at her. "You said you'd behave, you _promised_."

"Calm down virtuous maiden," she said, rolling her eyes. "I won't embarrass you in front of your darling honeybunches."

"He's _not_ my darling honeybunches," Ken snapped, annoyed. "And I don't give two shits about him. It's Aya I'm concerned about. She was in a friggin' _accident_ don't forget."

Birman rolled her eyes again but kept her mouth shut.

They found Aya's room soon after, located in a long, coral-painted hallway. 

Birman, who caught sight of a flame-haired figure from the corner of her eye, hastily ushered Ken into Aya's room while claiming she needed coffee. Being as Ran was out of his line of vision, Ken agreed, secretly feeling a bit relieved. He would rather see Aya without having to worry about what Birman would blurt out. He headed into Aya's room while Birman stalked up the corridor and into the tiny waiting area that opened off from the hallway's end.

Ran watched her approach with shuttered violet eyes. He was leaning against the wall, next to a poster on asthma, his face typically impassive. The waiting room was relatively empty, with only another couple sitting in the corner, reading magazines and talking quietly to each other. Birman came to stand before Ran, secretly reveling in the fact that her heeled sandals allowed her a couple of inches over him.

She stared down at him. "If you think I'm gonna stand by and watch your bullshit, think again Princess. You stay the hell away from Ken."

"What Ken and I do is none of your damn business," he told her flatly. 

Birman didn't like to be contradicted. She narrowed her eyes. "The fuck it isn't." She took a step closer to him, openly intimidating. "You hurt him again and I'll fucking _murder_ you. You should know by now that I don't make idle threats."

Ran looked bored. "Are you finished?"

"Ken is one helluva guy and _you_ were the one who gave him up. He loved you and now he's finally getting his life back on track. He doesn't need your shit so you leave him the fuck alone." She scowled and pronounced her next words with grave exaggeration. "_You gave him up._ Just remember _that_ you cold bastard."

Something flickered in his gaze but Ran hastily masked it. "Finished now?"

Birman was satisfied. She smirked. "Hell yes." 

~*~*~*~*~

Ken entered and closed the door behind him. Aya's room was bright and filled with flowers and balloons and cards and stuffed animals. Aya was in her bed, sitting propped up against a bunch of pillows, wearing purple pajamas patterned with penguins. Her face was pale, a blue bruise marring her left cheek and an angry red scratch stretching from the corner of her mouth to under her chin. Her right hand was in a cast that was covered in signatures and a length of black stitches peeked out from beneath her bangs.

At the sight of him, two bright splotches colored her cheeks and she smiled. "Hi Ken! I didn't think you'd actually come visit me!"

"Of course I would." He returned her smile and handed her the bouquet of flowers he'd bought from the gift shop. "These are for you. I didn't know you'd already have so many flowers otherwise I'd have brought something else."

"Don't worry about it Ken." She beamed as she read the card. "I'm just glad you came to visit me. I missed you tons and tons!"

He smiled as he sat down beside her bed. "I missed you too. How're you feeling?"

"A lot better." She soothed her blankets with her good hand. "I cracked a couple of ribs and I have a sprained ankle so I can't really go anywhere. Oh well, at least now I don't have to go to school." She giggled, gesturing to a stack of binders and text books on the nightstand beside her. "School comes to me!"

"Need any help with homework?" he offered for lack of anything better to say. He was never comfortable with the whole hospital-sympathy gig.

"Nah, I'm good." She turned dark eyes upon him. "I really am glad you came, Ken. Ran is glad too."

He blinked at that. "Really?"

Aya nodded solemnly. "I can tell. He was kinda nervous though, waiting for you. He wants you back."

"Uh..." Ken squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and coughed. "What do you mean exactly? I haven't gone anywh-"

"I know you guys used to be a couple," Aya interrupted, studying her bedspread intently. 

Against his will, Ken found himself flushing. "Erm..." How the hell had she found _that_ out? What was he supposed to say? 

Aya's cheeks were also pink. "I kinda found out by accident. To say I was surprised is a pretty big understatement. I was also really angry. I mean how come no one told me? I'm not a little kid, I could've handled it."

"That was Ran's decision to make. He didn't want to tell you. I thought that you should know but...you know how he is."

"I'm not blaming you, it's him I was pissed at." She fidgeted with her braids. "What did he think I was going to do, disown him? He's the only family I have and you made him happy. It's not like I don't like _you_."

Ken shrugged. "He was embarrassed because he wanted to be perfect for you. Our relationship was...not how it's supposed to be, I guess. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you."

Aya looked up and caught his gaze. "So instead he hurt you."

Shifting uneasily, Ken fiddled with the zippers that wound around the knees of his cargo pants. "It wasn't as-"

"Did you break up with him or did he break up with you?"

He sighed but didn't lie. It wasn't his job to protect Ran, not anymore anyway. "It was him," he admitted. "I loved him then. I thought he needed me."

"He does need you Ken!"

"Aya-"

"Just listen, it's true!" She nodded earnestly, looking very young and eternally optimistic at that moment. "I'm not making this up to make you feel better or anything like that. I _know_ Ran, I can see the difference. Ever since you left he's been withdrawn and cold and-"

"Oh there's a drastic change," Ken muttered, unable to help the sarcasm. He didn't want Aya's innocence now, it was too late.

Aya glared at him. "Around me he at least _used_ to make an effort to act happy but ever since you left, he doesn't care about anything. Before he was content...or at least as content as he could get. You made him _happy_ Ken, no matter what he said. Right now he's just, you know...what's that saying...going through the motions. That's what he's doing, just going through the motions."

"That's hardly my problem," Ken snapped, annoyed. "What do you want me to do, take him back and pretend everything's alright again? Act like this whole past year never happened? It took me a long time to get over your brother and it was _hard_. I can't go through all that shit again. I don't want to be vulnerable to him again."

"I don't mean it like that!" Aya cried. "I know he was a bastard to you and I'm not saying that you should forgive him right away but if you just spend some time with him and see that you guys are meant to be together then it could-"

"Bullshit," Birman declared, stepping into the room with a styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand. She closed the door and narrowed her eyes at Aya. "You keep your fat cakehole shut little girl. There aren't going to be anymore chances for your precious big brother."

"Birman," Ken warned but she ignored him.

"He screwed up big time and Ken isn't gonna go through his shit again, not with me here. I hate to tell you this kid but your brother is seriously fucked. He has a crapload of problems, he's a goddamn cold bastard and he doesn't deserve to even _look_ at Ken. Just because he's acting a little moody, you want Ken to come running back to him? Shit all over _that_."

"People make mistakes," Aya replied tightly. "I'm not justifying what he did but if they both love each other then-"

"Ken doesn't love him anymore," Birman put in flatly.

Ken nodded, avoiding questioning, wide eyes. "I'm sorry Aya but I couldn't wait any longer."

"But Ken if you just-"

Abruptly he stood. It became too much at that moment. "I need a drink," he ground out roughly and hastily left the room. Behind him he could hear Birman snapping at Aya in her super-pissed voice.

Ken spent more time then was necessary locked in a private bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror and washing icy fingers under hot tap water.

How much did everyone expect from him? Why was he the one to come and go at the snap of commanding fingers? Let Ran go, let Yohji be with someone else, be with Schuldich, come back to Ran...he was like a marionette. Everyone wanted him to play a different part and none of them were true to himself. With the exception of Birman, every wanted something from him. Even Aya only wanted him for her brother. How much more could he possibly give without becoming utterly empty? 

"Shit," he murmured, watching his mouth move in the mirror. 

There had been a time when he'd never cursed and now he was a regular potty mouth. Funny how things changed and yet they stayed the same. What was he going to do?

"Get out of here," he muttered, turning off the tap. He dried his dripping hands on a piece paper towel. There was no point staying here. Aya was the past, Ran was the past, their relationship was long in the past and that was where it belonged. He was over Ran, _for_ _good_.

Ken left the bathroom, walked down the hall and abruptly stopped. To his right, in a small alcove filled with vending machines and a few waiting seats, watching him with impassive features, was the flame-haired object of his thoughts. 

"Oh fuck why?" Ken thought disgustedly and cursed the fates. He sighed loudly and shuffled over, avoiding that disconcerting plum gaze. He may as well get this over with and be on his way. He approached his ex and said nothing.

Ran cleared his throat awkwardly. "I saw you go by and I waited for you."

"Oh yeah." Ken looked at Ran, at the face that he had once loved and felt a sharp stab of emotion. He quickly quelled it down with anger. How many times had he planned their reunion in his mind? So many things he had thought to say...everything from rage to forgiveness but at the moment nothing came to his mouth. He only knew that he wanted to leave because Ran didn't deserve _anything_ from him.

"Thank you for coming by," Ran continued, looking ill at ease. "It meant a lot to Aya."

"Yeah it's nothing." Ken made a production of looking at his watch. "I should be going now. I have a lot of stuff to do."

"Ken I'm sorry," Ran blurted out. He shifted, glanced at him briefly before hastily looking away. 

The apology surprised Ken since Ran wasn't one to ask for forgiveness. This was the first apology he'd ever heard from Ran, if the truth be known but he was determined to remain unaffected. "Hey no problem. I really gotta head off now. Birman's waiting for me and she's not so patient you know. See you around I guess."

Ken turned to beat a hasty retreat but Ran's hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. Ken's heartbeat began to race. "Let go," he commanded as evenly as he could.

Ran stared at him oddly, as though they were seeing each other for the first time. Then, plain smack in the view of anyone who might be passing by, he kissed Ken.


	9. Part Nine

Part Nine 

The kiss was so aching familiar that Ken found himself leaning into it before rationality kicked in. He wrenched away with more violence than was necessary. His head literally swirled. The shock on Ran's face mirrored his own. He touched his mouth with shaky fingers. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Ran's tiny kiss sent his heart _pounding_. They stared at each other.

"I shouldn't have done that," Ran whispered, plum eyes roving across Ken's face. "But I don't regret it."

Ken rubbed at his forehead and asked the only question his swimming mind could formulate. "Why?"

"I still need you, Ken." Ran didn't look away. His face was both ashen and resolved. "I still l-love you."

Ken jumped, as though a light bulb had shattered above him. The words jarred him like an electrical shock. His head screamed in sync with his heart beat while a noisy ringing whined in his ears. He sank down onto the hard, metal chair behind him, feeling sick and dizzy. "What did you say?" The words sounded very far-away. 

"I still love you." Ran sat down across from his, his expression grave. The words that came from him were a jumbled rush. "I should have said that a long time ago and it might be too late now but I wanted you to know. I loved you then and I love you now. I need you and I couldn't deal with that before. It scared me..._you_ scared me, so I lied. The way I treated you was badly and I know I have no right to ask anything of you but you loved me once and if you still felt the same way then I would hope that...maybe you could forgive me?" Ran pulled out a small, black book and thrust it at him. "This is what I-"

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Birman rounded the corner from the patient hallway and stalked up the hall, her heels clicking angrily upon the tiled floor. She was scowling.

"Phone me if you want." Ran spoke softly, only for Ken. He stood up, avoiding Birman's fiery glower. "I was just leaving. Good-bye Ken."

Ken looked at the book in his hands and then back at Ran. "Bye," he said hoarsely. 

Birman watched Ran leave with great suspicion. "The nerve of that guy!" she fumed, slipping into the seat the redhead had vacated. "What the hell did he want?"

He couldn't seem to tear his gaze from Ran's black book. "He said he still loves me and he wants me back."

"A-ha! I knew it from he minute he phoned you that he was just using Aya's accident as a ploy. That cold, lousy asshat. Like he's quick enough to pull a fast one over _me_!" She gloated with great triumph. "It's a good thing he left otherwise I'd have ripped him a new asshole!"

Ken blinked hard and tried to clear his head. "I never thought I'd hear him say those words to me."

"Get your head out of the clouds, there's no damn miracle here," she ordered and then noticed the book he was studying. "What's that book?"

He shrugged, slipping it into the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ran gave it to me. I'll read it later."

"Oh spare me the friggin' cliché dramas," Birman scoffed. "He probably filled the stupid book with a whole bunch of lame-ass love mush. He's been pining for you and was wrong to give you up and loves you _sssssooooooo_ much and all that tutti-frutti shit. I say chuck that crap straight into the junk heap, we're done here."

Ken had to laugh. No matter _what_ happened to him, Birman's cynicism always cracked him up. "Yeah, let's go home." 

~*~*~*~*~

By the time they got back to their apartment, it was late and the sun had set.

"You want anything before I leave?"

Ken shook his head as he fumbled for his keys. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Tomorrow morning I'll be over," Birman said, hunting for her own keys. "Then I'm going to have a chat with that German guy of yours."

"He's not _mine_." Ken finally found his keys, along with a good wad of pocket lint. "Anyway, thanks for coming with me today and all that."

"No problem." She leveled him a probing look. "If Ran decides to call, I trust you know what to say?"

Ken rolled his eyes. "He won't call me, _mom_."

"I'm just making sure," she huffed, unlocking her apartment. "I'll be here if you need me."

He nodded. "Goodnight, Birman. And thanks."

"Anytime."

He unlocked his own apartment and stepped on a piece of folded paper that had been shoved under the door. Locking the door behind him with one hand, he dusted his footprint off the paper with his other. He flopped down onto his couch and read the note. It was from Yohji, telling him that he wanted to make arrangements to pick up all his stuff.

"Fuckin' great," he groaned, crumpling the note. He tossed it onto the coffee table. A great end to a great day.

And here he'd thought that getting involved with Schuldich would bring unnecessary complications to his already pathetic life. But no, posing as Schuldich's boyfriend was really the _least_ of his problems. And seeing Yohji kiss someone else, yeah he could handle it, why not? It wasn't like being dumped was anything new.

_I loved you then and I love you now._

It was _that _shit that he could _not_ handle. He had liked Kase and he had liked Yohji but he had _loved_ Ran. Loved him in the sacrifice-all, incomplete-without-him type of way. How was he to go from finally getting over Ran, one of the hardest things he ever had to do, to knowing that Ran, the one he loved so desperately, still loved _him_? That all the reasons for their separation had been a lie because Ran had been scared? Was that enough for him to relent? Was a second chance in order here?

"But it's not fair," he said out loud, burying his face into the back of the sofa.

He wasn't a friggin' _tap_, he couldn't turn his emotions on and off. He was over Ran, had worked _hard_ to move on and it had been painful. Now was he just suppose to turn his life around and go running back to Ran just because of a few words and a stolen kiss? No, that wasn't fair at all. Ran had _no_ right to ask anything of him, none at all! He'd given up all rights ages ago.

"And that's that," Ken proclaimed, sitting up. The sound of his voice comforted him, made him feel stronger than he actually was. "I'm not gonna go back to him, he doesn't deserve a second chance."

Though there had been a time not so long ago when he would have given the world for Ran to change his mind.

"That's not now," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. "That's not now _at_ _all_."

He forced Ran from his mind with as much resolve as he could muster and set about making something to eat. He cleaned up afterwards, took a shower and was in the process of getting dressed when there was a knock on the door. He rolled his eyes as he jammed on his Brazil soccer jersey. Birman really had no faith in him. What did she think he was gonna do, hurl himself back onto Ran without her august approval?

"No respect," he griped, tossing his wet towel onto his unmade bed. He headed for the front door. "I get no damn respect." He flung open the door. "Birman what-"

But it wasn't Birman who stood leaning against the doorjamb, it was Schuldich.

Ken blinked, taken aback. "Oh it's you."

"Is that any way to talk to your despairing boyfriend? You had me worried sick."

Ken peered at him. "You don't look despairing. Apathetic maybe but hardly 'worried sick'."

Schuldich swept past him. "We all grieve in different way."

"Excuse me?" Ken slammed the door shut. "You've been grieving, have you? I'm not _dead_, retard."

"So I see." Schuldich wasted no time making himself comfortable. He lounged on the sofa with his feet propped upon tiny coffee table before him. "You need me." 

"What're you blabbing on about now?" Ken plopped down into his armchair. "I'm not the one with the poser boyfriend."

"I don't mean that. I'm talking about all the shit that's happened to you in these past few hours. You _need_ me Ken."

Ken stared. "Don't tell me you can read minds across _distances_?"

"I'm not that strong," Schuldich answered. "I just came by to see what happened to you. Right now you're so confused and aggravated that you're blaring your thoughts all over like a foghorn. I can't help but read them." 

"A foghorn?" Ken wrinkled his nose. 

Schuldich shrugged easily. "A tuba then. Or Arch Enemy."

"What's Arch Enemy?"

"Only one of the best metal bands to ever come out of Germany. The lead singer is a chick and she's hot. Too bad Bard finds them annoying. The only music he likes is classical."

"Figures. I never pegged him for the heavy metal type." Ken poked at the carpet with his foot. "Did you talk to him again today?"

Schuldich looked smug. "He phoned again but I had Farf ham it up. He's gotta be jealous by now. Jealous and_ pissed_. I'm evading him good."

"You know, I dunno if this scheme-boyfriend business is all such a good idea."

"Why? Because of what happened with Ran at the hospital?"

Ken sighed loudly. "I really wish you didn't know about that."

"Foghorn," Schuldich reminded him. "Besides, now you can talk it out or something. You know you can't go back to him."

"Thanks for the tip," Ken muttered. "But this is something I gotta figure out on my own."

"Figure it out _with_ me. Seriously, I'm great at dealing with emotional shit."

"But I don't even know _what_ I feel. It was all so unexpected, you know? He said that he loved me."

"I know."

"What am I supposed to do with that?" Agitatedly, Ken began wringing his fingers together. "I mean what does he expect from me? It's too late now, I'm over Ran."

Schuldich studied him. "Are you sure about that?"

"Well yeah, I should be!" His head sagged. "But I dunno. When we were together all I wanted was for him to be happy. I thought I could be the one to help him, to please him but in the end all he wanted was to be alone so I left. It was so hard, leaving him like I did. I gave up my own happiness for him. Doesn't that count?"

"You're a very caring person Ken," Schuldich said quietly. "That much is plain to see. These guys, that Yohji and this Ran fellow, they don't deserve you. Both of them gave you up and that's their tough luck."

Ken fiddled with the leaves of the wisteria that sat upon the end table beside him. "You don't think Ran deserves a second chance then?"

Schuldich snorted. "Hardly. You made it without him, despite how much it hurt. This guy couldn't do the same. I gotta wonder how much of it is selfish."

"Ran's not selfish," Ken defended before he could think otherwise. "He was thinking more about his little sister than himself."

"He didn't want to hurt his sister but had no qualms about hurting you, is that it?"

"Well it wasn't...I mean he..." Ken trailed off, slightly flustered. "It doesn't matter."

"But it should. All of this matters." Schuldich caught his gaze. "Do you want to go back to Ran?"

Ken thought for a few minutes before speaking. "I don't want to be hurt again. I don't think I could stand it. He put his sister before me once before and I know he wouldn't hesitate to do it again."

"That's your answer then Ken."

"I suppose," Ken grumbled moodily. 

"If it's any consolation, I stand by what I said earlier. If you were my boyfriend, I wouldn't let you go for anything."

Except for Brad Crawford. 

That thought did not comfort Ken.

~*~*~*~*~

When Ken awoke the next morning, he was shocked to see that it was already five past ten. 

"Crappy!" he gasped, flinging off his blankets and jumping out of bed. 

What the hell had happened? He always woke up at the crack of dawn, no exceptions! Or was it that all of yesterday's drama had taken a greater toll then he'd originally thought? Damn this was stupid. Most of the morning was already wasted! 

Straightening his crumpled T-shirt, Ken headed down the hall and into the living room to find Schuldich. Last night he'd set his 'boyfriend' up in the living room to spend the night since it had gotten late. They ended up talking late into the night and Ken had to admit that he was liking Schuldich more and more as time went on. The guy gave good advice and since he was a mind-reader, Ken was unable to hold anything back. It seemed that Schuldich genuinely cared about him and wanted to help him. All in all, he wasn't too bad a guy.

Ken found Schuldich in the kitchen and to his surprise, Birman was sitting with him. Both were eating take-out breakfast from the place down the street, a favorite of Birman's. Upon catching sight of him, they snickered as though sharing some private joke.     

Schuldich gave him a once-over. "Here's my sexy soccer stud," he leered.

Birman smirked. "Nice Spider Man boxers."

"They're Spider Carnage," Ken corrected automatically. He looked between the two, puzzled. Since when did Birman share her breakfast with anyone other than him? And along those lines, why was she acting civil? What happened to her? Had Schuldich goofed around with her mind?

"Hardly," Schuldich spoke up. "For your info, I don't 'goof around' as you put it, with other people's minds."

"What's going on here? Why're you two all buddy-buddy?" Ken looked at Birman. "I thought you were gonna kick his ass or something."

"You can't judge a book by its cover," she quoted.

He stared at her. "What the hell? You judge people all the time!"

"There's always some fact in stereotypes," Schuldich declared.

Birman pointed to the redhead. "This guy speaks some truth."

Ken shook his head. He didn't understand. "Whatever. I'm gonna go shower."

"I'll help you," Schuldich offered. "I mean you know...in a purely sexual way."

"Like I'm stupid," Ken scoffed. "I know that you somehow rigged a camera to my shower so that dear ol' Brad will catch us in the act or some shit!"

"Are you doubting my motives?"

Birman grinned proudly. "I taught him everything I know!"

Ken rolled his eyes and left the kitchen. He wondered what Schuldich had done to make Birman like him. It must have been something damn impressive, given Birman's previous thoughts on the subject. And then of course there was the matter of her sharing her breakfast with Schuldich...that alone bordered on a miracle. She never shared with anyone. Yes, these surely were odd times.

Fifteen minutes later, Ken was clean and dressed. He headed back into the kitchen for food.

"Birman left," Schuldich informed him, looking up from the newspaper. "She had to go to work."

"I can't believe she actually _tolerates_ you," Ken said as he set about fixing himself a bowl of cereal. "She doesn't like anyone. She hates the world."

Schuldich chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed. You should have seen her when I first opened the door. Murder wasn't the only thing she had on her mind. She makes Brad look compassionate by comparison."

"Well?" Ken grabbed a can of cold coffee from the fridge and joined Schuldich at the table. "What'd you do to make her change her mind?"

"We had a grand time bashing your ex-boyfriends," Schuldich said, grinning. "Birman realized that anyone who empathizes with you couldn't be all bad. Plus I gave her my address so she'd know where to find me in case I ever hurt you."

"I gotta say...I'm impressed." He nodded around a mouthful of cereal. "The way she was going on yesterday, I thought for sure you were gonna be one dead carcass!"

"I was motivated strictly on self-preservation. I need you as much as you need me."

"I don't need you."

"You need me to pound Yohji and Ran into the ground."

Ken narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me Birman put you up to some crap like that!"

"She didn't have to. I'd do that shit it for free."

"Oh for-"

"Look Ken, you're a nice guy. I know you didn't do anything and still you got trampled on. That isn't fair. I like you and I owe you so the least I could do is flay some ass."

Ken didn't know whether to be flattered or disgusted. He had to laugh, feeling a bit of both. "Thanks and all that but gimme a break. I don't wanna see either or them, let alone watch you fight."

"No one said you had to watch." Schuldich caught his gaze. "You don't even want to see Ran?"

Fiddling with his spoon, he said, "I told you last night that I didn't."

"So that's your answer? You don't want to get back with Ran for a second chance? For certain?"

"I don't-" Ken stopped, frowning. "What's with the sudden interrogation?"

"I promised Birman I'd get the scoop." Schuldich scanned his features. "But you're not one hundred percent sure. You don't know what to do."

"Well no kidding!" Ken nosily gulped down his cereal milk. "How much more outta the blue can you get, him telling me he still loves me like that! It's been better than a year since we broke up. I mean shit, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Schuldich shrugged. "No one said you had to decide now. Take all the time you want, he's not going anywhere."

"You know what the worst part is though?" He opened his coffee can. "The uncertainty. I don't know whether I hate him or...the other."

"Believe me, I know the feeling kiddo." Schuldich reached out and patted his hand. "Why don't you come back home with me? We'll find something fun to do to take your mind of things. Plus Farf's been pestering me nonstop to bring you back. He's taken quite a liking to you, you know."

He smiled and hastily finished the last of his breakfast. "It's a deal."

Schuldich was kind enough to clean up the kitchen while Ken got ready. After donning his favorite black hoodie, he set about hastily scribbling a note to his ex, saying that he would call Yohji when he was free so that Yohji could pick up all his belongings. Ken stuffed the note into an envelope and addressed it to Yohji, feeling oddly detached. He stuck it under the mat outside his door, so that only the corner was visible. Then he and Schuldich left.

They were waiting for the elevator when Ken realized he had left his wallet back in his apartment.

"I'll be back in one sec," he said, turning to go but Schuldich grabbed his wrist.

"I've got money, don't worry about it."

Ken looked at the tall German and didn't see him at all. Ken was dragged down into the memory of yesterday, with Ran holding onto his wrist just like this.

_I still love you._

The kiss was still fresh in his mind, as though etched. How could he forget it? How could he _ever_ forget? Not with Ran, not him. Their history was too deep. It meant more than he would ever admit and that hurt. He shouldn't want because he knew how it would be but rationality was useless now.

~_Forget Ken._~

He blinked and saw Schuldich before him, still holding his wrist.

~_I'll help you forget._~

Forget?

~_You're cute Ken. You don't deserve any of this shit._~

And what happened then was no more expected than what had happened in the hospital. Schuldich kissed him with soft lips. It was different but sweet all the same. Schuldich gave to him, touching his cheek with cool fingers. The kiss was a chaste one between friends and it was enough to forget, for the time being.

The elevator door opened with a little ding. Schuldich smiled and ruffled his hair. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

Ken touched his mouth, bemused. He followed Schuldich into the elevator.


	10. Part Ten

Part Ten

The phone rang again.

Schuldich roughly shoved him forward. "Answer it, it's Brad!"

"No I don't want to," Ken cried, stumbling. "He'll eat me!"

"Oh for the love of...would you quit being such a shithead?"

"No, it's a natural quality!"

Schuldich rolled his eyes. He yanked up the phone and thrust it at Ken.

~_Make him jealous goddammit otherwise I swear I'll have a chat with that Ran guy!_~

Ken gave the German the dirtiest glare he could muster and yanked away the phone. "Hello?"

There was a silence. 

Ken's stomach quaked. With great force he managed to repeat himself.

"Where the hell is Schuldich?"

There it was again, that cold, clipped, American accent. It gave Ken the creeps. "Erm..." He was mindful of Schuldich 'don't-mess-this-up' gaze and racked his brain for some appropriate excuse. "He's still sleeping," Ken said finally, after an embarrassingly lengthy pause. "He...uh kinda had a late night."

There was another silence, this one even more foreboding than the last. "And you were with him last night, I assume?"

The phrase '_don't assume because it makes an ASS out of U and ME_' flit through Ken's mind as it always did when he heard the word but he figured that it wouldn't be wise to impart his insight to the likes of Brad Crawford. "Well yeah, we hung out for a bit. We're really close like that."

"Are you now?" The American's voice dropped a notch and Ken could find no words to describe it other than 'deadly'.

"L-look, can I take a message or something?"

"No, I think not." And with those curt words, he hung up.

"Shits above!" Ken shoved the cordless at Schuldich. "I am never, never, _never_ doing that again, not for anything! I don't care if we have a deal or not because that guy is crazy! I swear he's gonna kill me and you don't even-"

"Stop worrying," Schuldich interrupted. "I'm gonna call him back in a bit."

"What?"

"This is exactly the perfect time," the redhead went on. "My dear Bradley's all jealous and moody."

Ken rolled his eyes. He didn't get why someone as nice and down-to-earth as Schuldich was so busy mooning after a jackass like Crawford. The guy sounded like a jerk of the first water!

"I'd rather you _didn't _insult my boyfriend," Schuldich spoke up. "So you want something to eat? To drink?"

"No," Ken grumbled. He sat down on the sofa and folded his arms across his chest. "I think now would be a good time to go over exactly what you want me to do."

The German sat down beside him. "Meaning?"

"Well you know!" Ken huffed. "You love Brad and all that but so far you've kissed me twice. Isn't that like cheating or something? Am I supposed to be all physical with you? I'm not really all that comfortable with public displays of affection. And besides, if your dear Brad ever _did_ see us, you know, getting it on for fake, he'd kick my ass all the way to Malaysia!"

"Yeah he would," Schuldich sighed. "He's so cute like that." 

Ken's eyes bugged. "Are you shitting me?!"

Schuldich laughed. "I'm just teasing you! Look Ken, I like you. You're a great guy. Whatever you don't wanna do, you don't have to. All I want is for you to hang around and play it by ear. Is that cool?"

"You're not so bad yourself," Ken said grudgingly. "I'll stick around and do what you want. Just promise me that you won't let your rabid boyfriend murder me."

"Hey I don't like to make promises that I can't keep."

Ken scowled. He went to belt the redhead a good one but Schuldich was off the couch in a flash.

"You can't hit a telepath," Schuldich said smirking. 

~_You're a shitty assgoblin!_~

Schuldich shook his head as he sat down across from him. "You've really developed a potty-mouth, you know that?"

~_Fuck you!_~

One orange brow arched. "Got any condoms?"

Ken snorted but couldn't help from grinning. "You keep dreaming."

"Oh I will," Schuldich purred, leering at him. "At least then you'll be putting that big mouth of yours to better uses."

Ken was outraged, even as he reddened. "I don't have a big mouth! If anything you're the one with a yap the size of the Yellow River! No wonder your stupid boyfriend wants to break up with you!"

"Brad doesn't wanna break up with me."

"Yeah he does."

"What do you know? No he doesn't!"

"I know lots and yes he does!"

"You don't know anything and no he doesn't!"

"I know more than you! And oh yeah he does!"

There was laughter as Nagi walked into the living room. "Having another intellectual conversation are we? No wonder you guys get along so well, you both have the same IQ. Negative one point low."

"I happen to have a very high IQ," Schuldich bragged. 

"Don't talk fiction," Ken contradicted. "You're not fooling anyone."

Nagi snickered as he dumped his schoolbag onto the floor. "Your boyfriend knows the real you, Schu."

Schuldich looked at Nagi's schoolbag and then back at the boy. "What the hell're you doing home so early? What happened to all your afternoon classes?"

"I decided to give myself a break," Nagi replied breezily. "Why do I have to keep learning useless information? I'm happy with myself just the way I am."

"You skipped class again?" Schuldich groaned loudly. "You stupid bastard! You know how much Bard hates when you do that."

"Bard?" Ken tried hard not to laugh. "You call the guy Bard? Bard as in a travelling minstrel?"

"Yeah and he hates it," Nagi piped up. "Well I think I'm gonna go play some PS2 so I'll be-"

"Video games!" Ken jumped to his feet. "Can I play with you?"

"No fucking video games!" Schuldich thundered. "You do your homework right now! If you get shitty marks then Bard'll cut off my friggin' balls!"

"Quit worrying _mom_, I'll do it later. Yeah, you can play Ken. You ever play Smackdown?"

"Hell yeah." He waved amicably to Schuldich as he followed Nagi from the room. "See ya later honey bunches!"

Schuldich rolled his eyes. Nagi and Ken, two dumbos in a pod. Both of them were like stupid little kids, all enthralled over video games like that. He shook his head and had to smile. Ken was awfully endearing though. 

He got himself a drink before hunting down one of Farfarello's sketch books. On the inside cover, he'd jotted down thephone number of Brad's hotel in Halifax, Canada. Now that he was alone, he could finally make the long, overdue phone call to his stupid boyfriend. 

Schuldich went his bedroom, sat down on his bed and dialled. After the hotel clerk connected him to Rm. 1108, the phone rang three times before Brad answered.

His no-nonsense, cool voice was even sexier then Schuldich remembered. A great weakness came over him and he realized then how much he'd missed the American man. "Hey," he said softly, leaning against the headboard. "It's me."

"Schuldich." Brad's voice also softened, for just a fleeting moment before sharpening again. "Where the hell have you been? You _know_ I don't like to be kept waiting."

Schuldich rolled his eyes at Brad's lofty arrogance. The spell between them was broken. It was now time for him to put his plan into action. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Of course nothing's wrong," Brad bit out impatiently. "I want to know why you're avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?" Schuldich laughed and knew that it must have annoyed Brad beyond bearing. He desperately wished he could read minds across long distances. Brad's mind must have been _swimming_. "Why would I avoid you? I swear you need to relax more or de-stress yourself. Before you left didn't you say that you had a whole shitload of work to do and didn't want to be disturbed? Remember that? I thought this business trip was super important."

"Since when have you decided to concern yourself about my work?" Brad demanded curtly.

That stung. In his mind's eye, images flashed like neon lights. All the meetings he'd attended with and for Brad, the piles of paperwork and research he'd done, the business lunches and pretentious parties he'd attended, the countless number of minds he'd scanned...he hadn't done any of that for himself. He didn't care about investing and clients and all that financial shit. He only cared about Bradley Crawford!

And suddenly the truth, that which had always stood before him, became glass-clear. 

Could it be that whether he slaved over business ventures eternally or met with dozen different partners a week, none of it would matter? That everything he did was in vain because he was just a possession to one who couldn't bear to ever lose?

"And since when do you actually inquire after me?" Schuldich knew he sounded bitter but he couldn't help himself.

Brad chose to ignore that. "Who's this Ken person? What's he doing in my apartment?" 

"Why are-" And then Schuldich stopped. He could hear a soft, accented voice talking to Brad, telling him that their table was waiting. The time difference between Tokyo and Halifax was twelve hours, making it exactly one o'clock in the morning in Nova Scotia. One o'clock and Brad was with a lady that sounded uncannily like Emilia, all the while questioning _him_ about being with someone...

"You're with Emilia," he remarked as evenly as he could.

"She's also here on business," Brad ground out in a low, irritated voice. "If you're going to start acting like-"

"Give her my regards," he interrupted and hung up. He disconnected the phone and contemplated hurling the whole device across the room but when was the last time throwing stuff had ever helped anyone? Maybe if Brad was right in front of him...

Schuldich let his head fall back against the wall with an audible _thump_. It hurt. "Fuck," he hissed, staring up at the ceiling.

Even from across the world, Crawford had a hold on him. 

~*~*~*~*~

Ken was surprised to find that he actually liked Nagi. The kid was sharp, witty and sarcastic. Strangely enough, he made Ken feel at ease, as they bonded over beating the blood out of each other playing WWE Smackdown III. Nagi talked about both Crawford and Schuldich and Ken found his opinion of Crawford sinking to new depths. There was no getting around the fact that the guy was a complete jackass. Schuldich, on the other hand, was pretty much as he appeared but even Nagi didn't know a whole lot about the German, only that he'd inherited a whole estate here in Tokyo from an estranged great Uncle. 

Their conversation and PS2 playing came to an end when Nagi received a call on his cell from his Biology partner. Apparently their term project had been stepped on by a plumber and then eaten by the partner's dog.

Ken had to laugh at the look of acute agony on the boy's face.

"Why'd you let Yanagimachi near the damn thing!" Nagi shrieked. He caught sight of Ken sniggering and threw the Parasite Eve game cover at him.

Ken took the hint and left Nagi's room. He looked around through the common rooms for Schuldich but couldn't find him anywhere. He headed back into the vast hallway that led to the bedrooms. He could hear Nagi agreeing to come over and help salvage the remains of the project. Ken turned right and saw that the door to Schuldich's bedroom was ajar. He shuffled to the end of the corridor before sticking his head into the room.

Schuldich was standing before the enormous picture window that dominated most of the right wall, looking out at the city. 

"Hey," Ken said, venturing a few steps into the room vast bedroom. "You mind if I come in? Nagi's gotta leave. Something about a ruined Bio project."

The redhead didn't turn around. "You're free to go."

"What?"

"You're free to go," Schuldich repeated and his tone was flat. "The deal's off. This whole idea was stupid. You were right, Nagi was right. I don't know what I was thinking. I'll pay you what I promised but everything else is done."

Ken stared at the German. Done? How could their charade be done? They had barely even started! A huge and entirely unexpected wave of disappointment washed over him. "You can't stop now," he blurted out. "Brad's already jealous!"

"That's not enough. Isn't that what you told me?"

"Since when do I know anything?" Ken couldn't believe what he was hearing. Schuldich had always been so confident! "Jealousy's a start. That's what you said, right? Besides, you _love_ him! You can't just give up. That's stupid!"

Schuldich turned around and his jade-colored eyes bore into Ken. "Why are so are adamant all of a sudden? You never wanted to do this. You knew it was pointless from the beginning."

Ken crossed the room and came to stand beside Schuldich. If the truth be known, he didn't know _why_ exactly he was so adamant, only that he didn't like seeing Schuldich like this. He was the hopeless, clueless one, not Schuldich. "I like you," Ken replied honestly. "You've given me a lot of good advice and we've become friends haven't we?"

Schuldich didn't say anything for a while. Then, rather abruptly, he asked, "Do you know what a catharsis is?"

"You mean like a cathartic release or something?"

"Exactly." Schuldich touched his finger to the windowpane and make squiggles upon the glass. "That's what I had when I spoke to Brad a little while ago." He glanced at Ken. "When your relationship to that Ran guy got to be too much to handle, you quit. You knew you were just wasting your time. Sometimes you have to know whether there's something left to hold onto or if what you're clinging to is withered."

"And sometimes what looks like it's withered really isn't." Ken shuffled uncomfortably. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. "I never, ever expected Ran to tell me what he did yesterday."

"I highly doubt that Brad is going to suddenly confess his undying love to me," Schuldich muttered disgustedly. "Either now _or_ in a few years down the road."

"I don't get it. You were so optimistic and convinced before. What did Brad say to you to make you change your mind? You can't just go from one side to the other for no apparent reason."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"But if you told me then maybe I could help," Ken persisted. "It's the least I could do."

There was another silence before the German suddenly spoke up. "He was with that Italian model Emilia."

Ken's eyes widened. "With _with_?" 

"Does it make a difference?" Schuldich spat acrimoniously. "He was giving me the third degree about you while _she_ was there the whole time!"

"You deserve better than him," Ken said firmly. "He's a jerk. Just like Yohji."

"I thought I could deal with him," the redhead murmured. "I thought I could make him love me."

"You can't really make someone love you," Ken ventured hesitantly. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Well _yeah_ but I just wanted him to..." Schuldich trailed off and sighed. "What does it matter? I need to get outta here."

"Out? You're not leaving Brad are you?"

"I'm not that smart," he muttered wryly. "Most likely I'll angst and complain for a few hours and the I'll be back here tomorrow, ready to start again. I'm such a fucking idiot."

"Join the club," Ken grumbled and he also sighed. "Remember what you told me that day? The nicest guys always fall for the biggest jerks. I guess that applies for the both of us, huh?"

Schuldich turned away. "I need to be alone."

"But..." Ken was torn. He didn't want to leave Schuldich alone, not after everything the older man had done for him but at the same time he probably _did_ need to be alone, just for a little while at least. "We'll still see each other right?"

"I don't know if still need you."

Ken swallowed, struggling to press down the hurt that swelled at Schuldich's casual words. He hoped Schuldich was too preoccupied to read into his mind. "Okay," he said in a surprisingly even tone of voice. His eyes stung. "I won't bother you."

_Just another person who doesn't need me.___

Ken walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.


	11. Part Eleven

Part Eleven

His mind catalogued his jealousy easily. There was no denying it. He had never been one to buy into all that self-delusional shit. The truth couldn't be changed and hiding from it was a failing. When it came to knowing and analysing himself, he never backed down, even if the results were unfavourable. That way there was never any room for nasty surprises.  

So Crawford acknowledged his jealousy.

And he found it to be repulsive.

Jealousy was a vanity. It was a worthless emotion. He loathed it in others. Those who were unable to control themselves succumbed to jealousy. It was a waste of time and he hated wasting time. Jealousy was beneath him. He had never succumbed to such a weak sentiment before because he was strong. Logical. If he worked hard enough, he could achieve anything. He wasn't afraid of striving towards his goals. He wasn't afraid of working hard. It was who he was. 

Therefore there _was_ no reason to feel jealousy. 

And still he felt it. He loathed himself for it. But mostly, he loathed Schuldich for bringing him to this.

_You won't forget me so easily, Herr Crawford._

Long ago, beneath stormy Berlin skies, Schuldich had spoken those words to him. It had been after their first meeting, accidental in nature, standing amidst grimy stones and congealing blood. That night had been cheap. There had been something in the air. For money, that hollow-eyed German boy would have done anything. And he had. Secretly, Crawford had been pleased. There had been something about Schuldich then...as there was something about him now.  

He refused to accept that the 'something' was something special. He would not allow himself to go that far. While he _could_ accept petty sentiments, it was hardly a dignified emotion, jealousy, but he wasn't about to overlook what he quite obviously felt, he could _not_ accept fanciful designs of Schuldich meaning more to him then he should. Schuldich was his business assistant and his sexual partner. In that order. That was all. Crawford didn't _want_ anything else from the redhead. He had neither the time nor the patience for any emotional shit.

Yet he was jealous all the same.

He forced his fingers to loosen and he set down the phone.

Schuldich had hung up on him and that did not sit well.

Because he made the rules and he made the all the important moves. That's just how it was and Schuldich knew it.

"Brad?" Emilia's heavily accented voice cut through the silence of the room. She watched him over the brim of her wine glass, her liquid-like eyes luminous. "Who called? What has happened?"

Crawford appraised the woman. She was beautiful, in that dark-eyed, exotically European way. Most men would have given anything to be alone in a hotel room with her, watching the invitation shimmer in her eyes. He should have felt something, needed to feel something but there was only annoyance at her questions. At her presence. 

He didn't want her. In spite of his best attempts.

Crawford didn't deny the truth because he never lied to himself. The truth was simple. His body craved Schuldich's, not Emilia's. Beyond business interests, he didn't give a shit about Emilia. What he wanted at the moment was to dominate Schuldich, to push the younger man far into pain and hear him scream. He wanted the errant German to feel _beyond_ what he felt. _Jealousy_. He wanted Schuldich beneath him so he could forcibly erase all traces of this Ken. He wanted to claim Schuldich so hard that he would never be able to look at another. And then...

...then Crawford would leave again because he didn't feel anything other then the need to repossess.

"Brad?"

"Something urgent has come up," he answered coolly. "I'm afraid I'll have to cancel our dinner plans. If you're still inclined, you can meet with Mr. Takahashi to discuss the merger."

Disappointment shone upon that striking face. He knew she wasn't interested in the merger. That was her father's business, not hers. "As you wish. Perhaps tomorrow then?"

He inclined his head slightly, making no promises, and saw her to the door. He remained impassive as she kissed his cheek lingeringly. "Goodnight," she whispered and disappeared down the silent corridor.

Business wise, he knew that it was in his best interest to bring her back and fuck her. He couldn't even do that. His own weakness bid him to scorn her. It wasn't her body he desired. It wasn't her obedience he wanted. 

Crawford took from his briefcase his cell phone and rang Johanna, his Canadian secretary. "Cancel all my meetings," he ordered, without preamble. "Whatever can't be cancelled, have McAllister attend to. Reschedule anything needing my attention. I want to be back in Tokyo by Thursday night at the latest."

Johanna was intimidated. "Yes Mr. Crawford."

~*~*~*~*~

There was a knock at the door.

Ken took a deep breath and steeled himself. He knew who was behind the door, just as he knew that it was only sheer willpower holding him together at that moment. Yes he was weak and yes his emotions were shot to _fuck_ but he wasn't about to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing it. Especially not in front of _him_. Ken didn't need to advertise to the world that he was beaten. That wasn't his way. He would wear his mask of civility and when he was alone, it would break. That had always been his way. He didn't have any choice in the matter. He had his pride, little as it might be and it was enough for him to keep his resolve. 

"I'm fine," he told himself firmly, heading to the door. "I can deal with this." He forced a pleasant, apathetic expression onto his face and yanked the door open.

Yohji stood before him, looking tall and unapproachable in vinyl pants, mirrored sunglasses and a long, black coat. 

"Come in," Ken invited, holding the door open. He was pleased with himself; his voice was calm, his tone steady. He carefully avoided looking at his ex. Yohji looked good and that tugged at his heart, harder then it should have.

"Are you alone?"

Unspoken: _Is that foreign guy with you_?

Ken's expression didn't change but the veiled reference to Schuldich twinged all the same. It hurt almost as much as seeing Yohji because Schuldich had been sweet to him. He had made him feel better and had empathized with him and had threatened to beat the shit out of Yohji and Aya. In short, Schuldich had cared and that friendship meant something to Ken. 

Which was why Schuldich's dismissal had hurt.

"I'm alone."

"Kenken I-"

"I'd rather you didn't call me that right now," Ken replied evenly, closing the door.

"I apologize," Yohji murmured softly. He took off his sunglasses and studied Ken with piercing eyes. "For everything."

"Right." Ken breezed past, unable to bear the way Yohji was watching him. He was too attractive, too _familiar_. "I gathered up all your stuff and I know I didn't miss anything since I went through-"

"Ken."

He busied himself with rearranging the bags of Yohji's things. "Yeah?" 

"I never meant to hurt you." Meaningless words spoken in that caramel-rich voice he had so adored. "For what it's worth, I loved you."

Ken stared at the plastic bags in his hands, his heart breaking all over again. It _wasn't_ worth anything, not anymore. "I don't need explanations," Ken told him, somewhat curtly. He couldn't help it. "It's done. You don't have to keep saying it."

Yohji looked like he wanted to reply but cut it off. Instead, abruptly, he said, "I saw Ran at the hospital last night."

Inwardly, he groaned. Yeah sure, why not? This was obviously the type of day that went from crappy to _crappy_. So why not toss in a pointless meeting between his two ex-boyfriends? Dumped by both, maybe they could share techniques or wax on about what a loser he was. Because you _had_ to be stupid to keep falling for the same old mouldy shit, again and again.

Ken rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling about twenty years older. "Fascinating."

"I was there on a case. He told me to stay away from you."

_And you said yeah sure no problem I dumped his sorry ass ages ago._

"Why are you telling me this?"

Yohji continued to speak, as though Ken hadn't. "I told him about your foreign guy."

"What?" Ken forgot to be calm as anger rose. "What the hell for? Where the hell do _you_ get off telling him any of _my_ business?"

There was slight annoyance on Yohji's face, but also resolve. "It's too late for him and he needs to know it. He's a spineless prick who doesn't-"

Ken couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yohji was so full of _shit_. "What about _your_ faults? Since when are you in any position to judge?"

"I know I'm not." Yohji's gaze was intent on his face. "Whether you believe me or not Ken, the truth is that I want you to be happy. I couldn't do it for you and neither could Ran."

Ken's irritation bled away, leaving behind weariness. "Couldn't and wouldn't are too different things Yohji."

Yohji spoke softer then Ken had ever heard. "I know."

"I think you should leave now," Ken muttered, his throat feeling thick.

Yohji nodded and without any arguments, he began gathering up his things. Ken watched him, seeing him as though through a blurry glass. His head felt oddly light but he was still able to meet Yohji's eyes straight on. A moment spun between them. There were many things left to say and not one of them would ever be spoken. None of it mattered, not anymore. It was too late and their love was weak. 

"Take care of yourself," Yohji murmured, his voice heavy with something Ken couldn't identify.

Ken nodded, looking away.

He opened the door, stepped outside and then paused, his back to Ken. "Whether you're with Ran or with that foreign guy, make sure they treat you well. You don't deserve any of this shit."

And then he was gone. 

Ken locked the door and flopped down onto the couch. He felt drained, his heart aching. "Ran strike, foreign guy strike," he muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I guess I really do deserve this shit."

Yohji said he had loved him. But that wasn't enough to hold them together.

He had loved Ran and that also hadn't been enough to hold them together.

What was love then, other then an ideal, a four letter word? If it was such a pure emotion then why did its nature change so quickly? How could someone claim to love another and then turn around and hurt them? That wasn't love, that was selfishness. 

A few of days ago things had been okay. Not great but he'd had a boyfriend and the illusion of happiness. Now he was completely alone, _again_, dumped for the third time and confused beyond bearing. Ran supposedly _loved_ him, enough to break up with him and hurt him and come back to him, this time with the approval of the sister he'd sought desperately to protect. Schuldich, who had entered his life so quickly and adamantly, seemed to be gone just as abruptly. Yohji was also gone and with another, when he'd sworn that he'd never hurt him like Kase and Ran had. 

All those words and emotions were a waste of time because at the end of the day, he was still alone, still unworthy of affection. None of them truly cared for him. Their words were pretty but when the bottom line was drawn, all he had was those words and they were empty. Ran had chosen his sister over him. Yohji had chosen his new love and Schuldich had chosen himself.

That last one stung as sharply as the other two and that irritated Ken. He had _known_ from the beginning that everything between himself and Schuldich would be a charade. Hell he hadn't even wanted to do it because the thought of Brad Crawford scared the living hell out of him. But he'd been persuaded and now he had what he wanted...freedom from that stupid pseudo-boyfriend scheme. He _had_ wanted it that, hadn't he?

His mind was quick to assure him that he did indeed want it but it felt hollow all the same.

Because he and Schuldich had become friends, hadn't they? Schuldich had given him advice, just as he in turn had given the German advice. He enjoyed Schuldich's company and liked him as a person. Schuldich was intelligent, witty, amusing and fun to be around. Ken hadn't asked for anything from him, hadn't wanted anything except that friendship. 

Crawford had hurt Schuldich badly, more so then the redhead had let on. Ken was no stranger to that sort of pain and he understood that Schuldich needed to be alone to think over his relationship. Ken's mind knew it all but his heart didn't seem to want to listen. The casual way Schuldich had dismissed him had been bitter. As was the realization that Schuldich really _didn't_ need him. Anyone could play the part of his boyfriend and for money, anyone would. Their meeting at the club that night had been nothing more than a coincidence. Things only blossomed because Schuldich needed an actor and he needed money.

"But I never needed him," Ken told himself firmly as he headed into his bedroom. "He was the one who needed _me_ and if it's over then it's over. I don't need anymore of these stupid melodramas."

Strong words that he didn't believe at all.

No wonder Birman hated men so much.

~*~*~*~*~

'_Dear Brad_' Schuldich wrote and then abruptly stopped. He frowned up at the light and then down at his paper. For some odd reason his words were blurring together. He squinted a bit and held the paper an arm's length away. How fishy. It appeared that his letters were doing the tango and that _couldn't_ be right.

"Shitty pen," Schuldich growled. He should have known better then to trust a cheap Korean knock-off gel pen for a momentous task such as this. The stupid thing had come free with Farf's manila sketchbook so how much quality could he have expected if the thing was free? Schuldich scanned around for another pen but there were none to be seen. Well that was okay. Better then okay, actually. It would serve Brad right. Brad hated sloppy things. He also hated pink glitter ink. Schuldich smirked. _That_ would teach Brad, to get a sloppy letter written in pink ink.

Bringing the crumpled piece of paper right up to his face, Schuldich reread what he'd written. He decided that Brad didn't deserve a 'dear' in front of his name. Brad wasn't a dear at all. He was a bastard but Schuldich couldn't begin the letter with 'Bastard Brad' so he just scratched out the 'dear' with thick black lines. Then he scratched out the 'Brad' and instead penned in 'Crawford'. There was no need to get personal, he figured.

'_How are you? I am fine._'

Except that he wasn't really fine and he didn't give a crap whether Brad was or not. He hoped Brad was miserable. He hoped Emilia was as flat as a bored. He hoped she hogged all the blankets. Brad _hated_ when he hogged the blankets. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things Brad hated. He really wasn't that much of a happy guy.

Schuldich chewed on his pen cap for inspiration.

'_You are a shitty jerk. Why don't you go stick your head in a blender and press puree?_'

"Good one," he praised himself. He took a deep slug of Goldschlagar and gripped his pen a bit more firmly. The damn thing kept wriggling out of his grasp, like a bloated caterpillar on the sidewalk. It was annoying. 

Schuldich stuck his face close to the paper and wrote some more.

'_If you think I'm just some annoying punk hanging around your apartment all day then you're dumber than a boulder. You're lucky I help you with your work all the time because if I didn't then you'd have to pay someone to do what I do for free. You should be thanking all the Gods that I'm a real bargain. I don't even snore dipshit._'

Schuldich paused to fish out the cherry he'd stuck in his Blue Moon martini and shoved the candied fruit into his mouth. It felt good to call Brad a dipshit. He wiped sticky fingers on the edge of Brad's letter. That felt good too. The letter was shaping out to be quite a good piece of scruggy mess.

'_Sometimes you know how to make me so mad._'

Was it okay to put in an admission of feelings or was that taboo? Schuldich pondered that over a Becks and then decided that it was okay. It wasn't like he was telling the guy he _loved_ him or anything equally as stupid.

"I don't love you Bard," Schuldich declared, thumping down his beer. Frothy liquid splashed down the side of the can and onto the glass table. "Well maybe a little I do ," he amended, wiping at the beer with glitter-smeared fingers. "But I'm not telling you that, _die dumpfbacke_."

He picked up his pen again.

'_If you think I love you then you better think again Chief. I love you like I love a heel to the head. That means I don't love you because I don't love heels to the head, get it? Plus you suck._'

Hmm. Well he was no expert but the last bit could be taken literally, if not a bit provocatively and if that was indeed the case...

He added, '_like a cheap dick_' but after a bit of consideration, he messily inked that out. It probably wasn't such a hot idea to put 'suck' and 'dick' in the same sentence. This wasn't a pervascious letter afterall. He amended with, '_a whole crapload because you don't know *jack shit*. That's why I'm dumping you like last week's left over pork udon._'

His stomach churned at the thought of pork udon so he soothed it with a few gulps of Bailey's Irish Cream.

'_From Schuldich._'

He mulled the last bit over. Naturally the letter was _from_ him but that seemed too...tacky somehow. Well not tacky exactly but more like...well whatever. He knew what he meant, even if he couldn't exactly find the right word for it. Crossing out the 'from', he jammed in 'Sincerely' over the scribbles. Much better. He _was_ sincere afterall. 

"Really sincere," he said aloud.

As an afterthought he hastily dashed, '_PS: I can read your mind bimbo._'

"Done," he declared and capped his pen. He was very much over Brad Crawford and that was that.

He guzzled down a rum and Coke and wondered what Brad was doing.

~*~*~*~*~

Ken awoke to a thick scratching sound. He blinked bleary eyes up at the ceiling, disoriented. Had he fallen asleep? He yawned hugely and snuggled deeper into his blankets. The scratching noise sounded again, now accompanied by loud bangings upon the front door. Ken groaned and buried his head under his pillow. He didn't give five craps _who_ was at the door because he wasn't getting up to open it! He was sick of all this relationship angst. The world could rot for all he cared. He wanted was to be left alone. He was tired of being with people who clearly didn't give a damn about him.

The knocking continued. It was steady and growing in volume.

"Shaddup," Ken grumbled, burrowing his face into his mattress. "Le'me alone."

The scraping against the door also grew louder. The pounding didn't stop.

Who the hell wanted to see him so badly? Why weren't they getting tired of  knocking? Were they bloody retarded? He was considering putting in a Dir en Grey CD and blasting it when the scratchings became longer and more pronounced. The knocking rattled the door in its frame. Ken sat up in alarm. Was someone trying to bust his door down? He didn't have money to pay for a new damn door!

Cursing, he scrambled out of bed and stamped down the hallway. "Go away!" he snarled. "Stop wrecking my friggin' door! I don't wanna talk to you so get a damn clue and scram!"

The scraping/pounding hybrid persisted.

"What the _hell_?" Ken yanked open the door, enraged. "Didn't you hear me you cra-"

He abruptly broke off in a gape. The last person he'd ever _not_ expected to see standing at his door was, well standing at his door.

Schuldich's one-eyed crazy friend blinked owlishly, as though surprised. "Hullo Ken."

Ken stared in pure astonishment and couldn't seem to find any words.

Farfarello gestured to the door with the knife that was clutched in his hand. "I itched the scratch."

Ken glanced at the door and did a classic double take. Farfarello had scraped the front of his door to _hell_. Long, deep grooves littered the wooden surface. Splinters covered the floor. A half-hysterical laugh bubbled out from him. "You better come in before my landlord sees this mess and flips the lid!"

Farfarello nodded, entering. "I flip a lot of lids. But I can't juggle."

Ken led his unexpected visitor into the living room. "You don't say."

"I do say."

Ken shook his head, still in a state of shock. What in the earth was the guy doing at his apartment? Had Schuldich sent him? "So...um..." There was an embarrassing silence as he scrambled around for something to say. "You want something to drink?"

Farfarello, who was looking around curiously, didn't notice Ken's discomfort. "Tomato sauce," he intoned, poking at the sofa with the butt of his knife.

"Tomato sauce," Ken repeated, watching the Irish man inspect his sofa with some apprehension. "You're not gonna, uh...hack that up are you?"

There was surprise on that wan face. "Sofas don't itch."

"Right." Ken choked back a nervous snicker. "Well I don't have anything tomato. How about a Coke?"

Farfarello thought about that for a moment before nodding. "Sometimes the fizz gets in my nose. It's like scuba diving."

Ken had nothing to say to that.

When they were both settled, sitting and drinking their Cokes, Ken asked, "How'd you know where I lived?"

"I can find a house on the road," Farfarello said before sticking his tongue into his glass to lap at his Coke.

Ken figured that was as much of as answer he could expect from the Irish man. He wanted to ask about Schuldich but couldn't bring himself to. "Well...erm..." He racked his brain for something to talk about but couldn't think of a damn thing. He also couldn't think of a subtle way to ask Farfarello what the crap he wanted. Fortunately, he spoke before Ken had to.

"I painted a picture for you," Farfarello announced, chewing on his index finger. "I used acrylics. Acrylics from a _tube_. Like the subway in London."

Ken blinked and found that he was touched.

Farfarello took out a small piece of canvas, about 5" by 8", from his vest pocket and handed it to Ken. "There wasn't enough eons in my head to finish it."

Ken had never seen any of Farfarello's artwork but he assumed that his art style would be on the wacky side. Like angular sci-fi pictures made out of fish hooks and charcoal or something weird like that. Ken was off but not by a whole lot. The style of the painting screamed Farfarello. While the subject was simple enough, the colours were bold and pulsating and the rendition was rather disturbing. 

Two hands and a heart. There was nothing more. The heart was a throbbing, vein-caked mass of bloody pulp. Chunks of the dripping organ were missing, leaving it incomplete and bloated with scars. The two hands, one paler then the other, were reaching from opposing sides, fingers full with scarlet-soaked heaps of muscle. The lighter hand was shoving its pile of flesh into the torn heart, blood streaking from pale fingers all the way down that pale arm. The other hand, the darker one, merely skimmed the bloody, stitched surface while squeezing the fleshy gore in its grip. 

Ken stared, perplexed. His breath caught. The painting was both beautiful and gruesome. The symbolism wasn't lost on him but still he had to ask. "What does this mean?"

"Shoving pieces back to mend something ruined." Farfarello pulled at his lower lip, moist from the Coke. "Sometimes it takes two people. More then one person. That's what it takes sometimes."

"Yeah but..." Ken couldn't tear his eyes from the painted image. "Why would you give me something like this?"

Farfarello's answer was as simple as his painting. "Because it's you and Schu."

Startled brown eyes flew to the Irish man. "What?"

Farfarello patiently repeated his answer.

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I don't understand Mongolian."

"But you just..." Ken was even more confused then before. He hastily changed tracks since the Irish man didn't seem inclined to do him any favours. "Why did you come here?"

"To iron." 

Ken found himself once again speechless.

"That's what you like to do right?" Farfarello was looking at him with a solemn, almost earnest expression. "You said 'I iron when I get stressed.' That's what you said. I heard you when you said that. I was listening. You were stressed because you saw your boyfriend kissing someone else."

"Ex-boyfriend," Ken corrected automatically.

"Ex-boyfriend," Farfarello parroted. 

"So basically you came here to iron," Ken slowly summarized. He was having trouble following Farfarello's wacky thought process. "Did you think I was going to be stressed or something?"

"A wise man doesn't always grow corn on Thursday," Farfarello quoted by way of an answer.

Ken gave in. It was too hard to get a straight answer from the Irish man. Maybe he just had to speak the guy's language. "But even a fool must eat pickled herring every New Year's."

Farfarello looked impressed. "You are a good pseudo-boyfriend to have."

Ken snorted. "Ex-pseudo-boyfriend."

"Schu was angry in his head." He tapped his temple to illustrate his point. "Crawford doesn't know how to get rid of all the spiders. It's not really his fault but he doesn't _care_ to get rid of them. Not knowing isn't a fault but not caring is." 

Ken struggled to keep up. "What spiders?"

"The spiders in Schu's mind," Farfarello explained patiently. "They rot in there all the time."

"Oh." He had no clue of how to reply to that. "Well the sham is over." Ken raised his chin determinedly. "And I'm glad for it. I never wanted to do it in the first place anyway."

Farfarello pondered that. "Well maybe it is over," he said finally. "Schu went back to his big house."

Ken couldn't be surprised. "He moved out of Crawford's apartment?"

"The night you left." He tilted his head and ran scarred fingers over the blade of his knife. "He took only some of his stuff with him. Some, not all. Some being less then all." 

It really was over then.

Ken found the relief that filled him was as strong as the disappointment. While Schuldich's cool words still lingered inside his head and while he would miss the German, Ken knew that it was the right thing to do. How could he not? Schuldich made the same decision he'd made with Ran. 

Letting go of what was already dead. 

It was that simple. How long could you give to one who always took? Ultimately it would break you. Everyone needed to receive love, to receive _something_. It was human nature. And if there was nothing there...then the whole thing was pointless.  

If there was something worth saving then it would be different. But clearly Crawford was an asshole and he didn't appreciate Schuldich. Schuldich was a good person. His heart was clean. He deserved to be loved properly. He deserved to be cherished. And since Crawford couldn't do that, couldn't clear away the spiders as Farfarello had said, then Schuldich needed to move on.

Just as Ken needed to move on.

Because in the end, he really couldn't be upset with Schuldich.

~_I'll help you forget._~

The hurt was there but not the anger. That refused to come. He understood where Schuldich was. He'd been there. So he couldn't really be upset, could he?

"I want to say good-bye," Ken shocked himself by saying.

"But what about ironing?" Farfarello asked, frowning.

Ken hesitated and found that he _did_ want to say good-bye. It wasn't a sporadic announcement but the truth. "Not to you," he clarified, hiding a smile inside his glass. "To Schuldich."

"An ideal sort of idea," Farfarello approved, nodding sagely. "Simple in its simplistic simplicity."

"I agree." His grinned at the Irish man, not hiding it this time. "We can iron now if you want to."

Farfarello gave him a suspicious look. "But no polyester blends."

"Deal."

~*~*~*~*~

Ken looked down at the address Farfarello had given him and then back up to the iron-wrought address number. This was definitely the right house...if it could even be called that. He glanced around him, thoroughly intimidated. The house, more of a mansion really, was humongous. It was an imposing affair, standing about four stories high and adorned with massive pillars, story-high picture windows and a curving staircase that lead up to a stately front door. It was the sort of house one would expect to find in England or France, not Japan. Ken hadn't even known mansions such as this existed in Tokyo. But then again he _was_ about two hours away from his apartment. It was as though he was in a completely different city.

Steeling himself, he quickly knocked on the door before he could change his mind. His heart was pounding. He was nervous and he didn't know why. He was only going to say good-bye. It was hardly a nerve-wracking affair. He didn't even _know _Schuldich really. He was only doing what Schuldich wanted and what he wanted too. It really shouldn't have been a big deal.

But somehow it was.

The door was opened by a short, dour-looking old man. His expression was condescending. "Yes?"

Ken anxiously wiped sweaty palms against his khakis. A half-hysterical titter bubbled inside of him. What was this, a _butler_? His throat worked and it took him a couple of tries before he could force out words that weren't incoherent. "Is Schuldich home?"

"Is he expecting you?" The man spoke with a heavy Okinawa accent.

Ken shifted uncomfortably beneath that hoity-toity gaze. "Uh well not so much..."

Disapproval radiated from the man. "Then I suggest you come back with an invite." He started to close the door.

An invite? Who did this butler think Schuldich was, the Emperor? "I'll only be a few minutes," Ken blurted out, wedging his body between the door and the doorframe. "Please? I won't be long, I promise. You can come even with me if you want to."

The butler scrutinized him. Ken managed a weak smile. The man sighed. "Fine," he acquiesced with lofty reluctance. "Follow me and make it quick."

Ken entered and followed the man. The house was gorgeous. The floors were made of black marble, the foyer walls papered in cream and gold. Before them stood an ornate, double-sided staircase that stretched upwards to open corridors and lavish rooms. The man led him past the staircase and down a long, airy hallway. Ken peeked into the numerous rooms as they passed. They were all elegantly furnished.

"I must warn you," the man suddenly said, startling him. "Schuldich is not in the best of moods."

"Yeah I know," Ken answered, quickly forgetting about his surroundings. "Is he okay?"

The man glanced at him sharply. "What do you know of it?"

Ken hesitated. "I was kinda there when...uh...stuff happened."

"I see."

The rest of the walk was silent. The man abruptly made a sharp left and escorted him into a room at the end of the hallway. The room was small and dark. The walls were painted a steel-grey colour and all the curtains were drawn. The only light within the room came from a gigantic tropical fish tank that was built into the wall. Schuldich was sitting on the black carpet, leaning back against the sofa. Stacks of books and piles of loose paper surrounded him. The coffee table before him was crammed full with bottles of liquor and empty glasses.

Schuldich looked up as they entered. 

"This boy wishes to visit," the butler man intoned with all the pomp and formality of a royal crowning.

Schuldich grinned a wide, toothy grin. "Hi Ken, remember me?"

Ken blinked at that chirpy tone. His gaze swung from the redhead to the loaded coffee table. It wasn't hard to figure out what was happening here. "Schuldich, are you _drunk_?"

"I don't get drunk," Schuldich scoffed, looking affronted. His bright eyes jumped to the butler. "Right Ichiro?"

Ichiro looked sour. "You have been known to hold your spirits," he agreed with great reluctance.

Schuldich smirked heartily at Ken. "See?" he gloated. "I can drink like a fucking fish and _always_ be fine. I can walk any straight line and drive too."

Ichiro decided to stiffly leave the room then, muttering about irresponsible drunkards under his breath.

"Of all the damn clichés," Ken griped irritably. Had he come all this way, wasting thousands of Yen on stupid taxi fare, to encounter a smashed Schuldich?

"Who's a cliché? I'm not a cliché," Schuldich proclaimed, banging his fist on the crowded table. An unopened vodka Pure Source cooler fell to the floor. "Ow fuck that hurt."

Ken rolled his eyes. He hadn't expected that seeing Schuldich after a couple of days would be quite like this. In retrospect, he should have known. Come relationship angst, guys _always_ got tanked. It was the way of the warrior. "Yes you are. The only thing missing are the strippers." He shook his head, uncertain of whether to be amused or disgusted. "I swear, if you were a girl you'd be stuffing your face with Belgian chocolates and crying at romantic comedies."

Schuldich snickered as he poured a foaming Heinkein down his throat. "That's why I like you Ken, you're a funny guy."

"I thought you were pissed at me," Ken muttered.

Schuldich frowned, tilting his head to the left. He studied Ken for a moment. "I can't read your mind," he announced, uncapping a bottle of something green. 

Ken felt his heart skip a beat. He'd forgotten, yet _again_, that Schuldich was a telepath. He'd come here with courteous words in his mouth while his mind was open on his sleeve. Schuldich would have been able to see right through him...and he hadn't remembered it.

"But that's because there's so much booze sloshing around," Schuldich continued blithely, oblivious to Ken's self-dismay. "That's the only thing that goes when I drink. But that's okay. Sometimes I need the silence."

"Yeah," Ken agreed distractedly. Why was he so damn _stupid_? He should have known better then to come to Schuldich, filled with empty good-byes when he really wanted...

What did he really want?

The answer was surprisingly simple.

Friendship. He wanted Schuldich to be his friend. He wanted someone to want him without any expectations. He didn't have anyone except Birman and putting aside everything else, he _liked_ Schuldich. And as he watched the redhead shove a candied cherry into the green colored martini he'd just whipped up, Ken came to the conclusion that Schuldich probably liked him too. 

 ~_You're cute Ken. You don't deserve any of this shit_~

His ears reddening just a bit, Ken closed the door behind him and flicked on the nearest lamp.

Schuldich held up the green drink. "I made a Green Envy for you. 'Cause we're buds like that, you know?"

Ken sat down on the carpet, across the coffee table from Schuldich. He wondered if the telepath was stringing him along while secretly reading his mind. Ken smiled easily and in his mind he screamed '_I hate you, you stupid boozing asshole!_' as loudly as he could.  

Schuldich's expression didn't waver. "I can add another cherry if you want. But don't ask for olives because I hate those shitty things. They taste like piss."

So Ken had to be content with the fact that Schuldich probably wasn't peeking inside his mind. "Are we really friends?"

"I know I hurt your feelings," Schuldich said conversationally, scrubbing his fingertips on what appeared to be a paper filled with pink glitter ink. "I heard it when you left my room. I felt guilty that I did that. I wanted to find you and apologize but at the same time I didn't wanna see you. You reminded me of how clingy and weak I was to think up that whole dumb jealousy plot. I wasn't really pissed at you at all. Do you get it?"

"Yeah," Ken said, feeling his heart lighten. "But Crawford's still a jerk. You _should_ be pissed at him since-"

"Not that," Schuldich interrupted, shoving the green cocktail across the table. "I was pissed at me. You know, because I'm such a fucking _dud_."

Despite the gravity of what Schuldich was saying, Ken found his lips curving into a grin. _Dud_? When was the last time anyone used that word?

"I _hate_ being a dud," Schuldich declared with great emotion. He popped open another beer, this one a Newcastle. "It sucks ass!"

"If you're a dud then what does that make me?" Ken gingerly took a tiny sip of the martini Schuldich had made for him. He really wasn't much of a drinker and when he did drink, the alcohol went straight to his head but he figured now was as good an occasion to drink as any. Duds drinking, what could be better then that? He found his martini to be tolerable, sweet with a bitter aftertaste. He sipped a bit more.

"You're not a dud," Schuldich contradicted, wiping foam from his lips with the back of his hand. "You're a helluva cool guy! One of the nicest I know. I was a Brad to you and you still came here to be nice to me."

Ken hesitated for a moment. "I actually came to say good-bye."

Green eyes blinked rapidly and Ken idly noted that Schuldich's eyes were the same vivid colour as his cocktail. "Good-bye?" Schuldich pronounced it like it was a foreign word.

Ken fiddled with the stem of his glass, unnerved under the weight of that verdant gaze. "We're done aren't we? I mean that's what you said. So I thought that...since we're sorta friends and stuff...I'd stop by to see..." Ken stopped because his words were awkward and slow in coming. He made himself meet the older man's eyes and asked the questions that had been festering inside his mind. "Did you actually break up with Crawford? Or are we still on?"

There was a bit of a silence.

And then, deliberately ignoring the former part of the question, Schuldich asked softly, "Do you want us to still be on?" 

~_If you were my boyfriend, I wouldn't let you go for anything_~

Ken felt his heart press hard against his chest and jolt. Schuldich emphasized the 'us' in a way that seemed to mean... 

"I can't read your mind," Schuldich continued in that same otherworldly sort of voice. "You have to tell me what you want."

What he wanted. Ken knew what he wanted and once all the alcohol in his bloodstream had dissipated, Schuldich would also know but the real question... "What do _you_ want? I can't read your mind at all and I'll _never_ know unless you tell me."

Schuldich reached out and skimmed his fingertips over the bloodless ones that were clenched around the martini glass. His eyes smouldered against Ken's. "Are you sure you want to know Ken? Ready to face the music?"

The sudden tension between them was almost tangible.

"Don't play with me," Ken whispered, tingles searing his skin as the German touched...caressed?...his cold fingers.

Another silence.

And then-

"I want you to stay...and be here."

There was an invitation in those words.

For what, Ken didn't know.

And in all honesty, he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know.

Authors Notes:

Yeah I know Schuldich was really boozing it up but it is possible to drink that much and still be in control or your actions. My brother drank a tank load when his wench broke it off and he was as fine as turpentine. I guess it all depends on how much fermented shit you can handle eh?

Also, for some reason I can't post the link here because it keeps screwing the chapter up but Lain drew me the most -amazing- Schu/Ken fanart. It's absolutely gorgeous and it makes me punch-pleased. If you want to see it then drop me a quick e-mail and I'll send you the URL. It's not to be missed, no fake! 


	12. Part Twelve

Part Twelve

The minute he heard the front door scrape open, Nagi abandoned the history text book he'd been staring blankly at for the past half an hour and scrambled out of his room. He found his boyfriend in the living room, meticulously draping his jacket over the back of the sofa.

"What happened to you?" Nagi asked, blearily scrubbing a fist over his eyes. "I thought you'd be here ages ago."

"Dinosaurs roamed the earth ages ago," Farfarello intoned, reaching out to touch Nagi cheek. "Ages have past since those ages."

Nagi followed him into the kitchen and watched him rummage for food. "You were at the studio this long?"

"For a while that _was_ long." Farfarello noisy spilled milk into a bowl and then begin crumbling vanilla wafer cookies into it. "But then I went to see Ken and that was for a long while even _longer_."

A little prick of jealousy stabbed at Nagi at the mention of Ken's name. It was lame to feel jealous, especially since he himself liked Ken quite a bit but it was quite the rare thing for Farfarello to actually _like_ someone. Somehow, during that whole ironing business, it seemed that Ken had unconsciously charmed his way into Farfarello's highest esteem. 

"Oh yeah?" Nagi remarked in a would-be causal voice. "For what?"

Farfarello didn't answer right away. He was busy mashing the banana he'd added to his bowl of milk-wafer with a metal whisk. "To give him the picture I made for him," he finally replied, splashing gunky milk all over the spotless surface of the kitchen table.  

"You gave Ken a picture?" Farfarello had never painted _him_ a picture.

"So he would _know_."

"Know what?"

Farfarello looked up from his whisking and blinked his one eye a few times. Surprise marked his features, as though he'd just noticed Nagi's presence. "I like Ken," he declared, licking the thick gloop that clung to the whisk. "He likes to do ironing when he doesn't have to, did you know that?"

"Yeah, so I heard." 

"He likes you too," Farfarello added. "He said he played video games with you." He found a ladle and began slurping his milk mixture from it. "He's not Schu's pretend boyfriend anymore, did you know that too?"

"He's not?" This was news to Nagi. He'd assumed that when Schuldich disappeared a couple of days ago, it had been with Ken in some grand scheme of them moving out together to fuel Brad's jealousy. Between his endless schoolwork and extracurricular activities, he hadn't the time to follow Schuldich's latest string of dramas. "How come? Did he decide he wanted out?"

Farfarello shook his head. "Schu decided he didn't want a pretend boyfriend anymore. I think he doesn't want Crawford either. I don't think he'll be back...he'll be backless at least."

"But-" Nagi blinked and felt tongue-tied. Schuldich _loved_ Brad, had since day one. Everything was about Brad and making him love Schuldich. Wasn't that the whole purpose of Ken being around in the first place? "Why didn't you tell me all this when Schu first left? I thought he and Ken took off for a few days for dramatic, jealousy purposes."

"They're not thespians," Farfarello stated with the air of one instructing a child, ignoring Nagi's question completely.

"Well we have to go see him right now! We have to find out what's going on. Schu's probably super upset and drunk too. If Brad gets home and Schu's not here, Brad'll kill him!"

The Irish man nodded sagely. "And maybe even Ken too. But I won't let that happen."

Nagi rolled his eyes. "Well hurry up and eat your food. I'll call a cab and change into normal clothes. It's gonna take us like two hours at least to get to Schu's place. Do you even remember the address?"

"We can't go to his house now." Farfarello licked his ladle. "It's a school night."

"Are you kidding me?" Nagi huffed. _Now_ was a great time for Farf to act his mother! "Schu left us! I don't care about school. I want to hear what's going on straight from him. I'm going to have to figure out what to tell Brad, if he really moved out for good."

"But Ken's over there right now," Farfarello remarked. "They're going to sew things up. If we went there we'd be the ninth wheels."

"It's not going to make much of a difference if we go there for just a little bit," Nagi insisted. "I feel bad. It's been like what three days? I didn't even know Schu was gone for good. This is depressing. I'll miss him!"

"He isn't _dead_." Farfarello slowly blinked one eye at him. "You can still see him Nagi. He just doesn't live here anymore. He hasn't gone to the _black void_, obviously."

"Yes I realize that," Nagi said impatiently. "I only meant that want to see him and I don't think that we-"

"The front door has opened," Farfarello interrupted dropping his ladle back into his bowl with a loud _splat_. Milky banana sludge slopped all over the table.

Nagi stood up, wiping at his splattered sleeve. "See, I knew he'd back. I mean he only _loves_ my-"

Farfarello grabbed Nagi's wrist with sticky fingers and pulled him back down. "It's Crawford."

"What?" Nagi paused to listen. He heard the front closet door closing. Schuldich never used the front closet, preferring like the rest of them to toss his jacket onto the living sofas. "Brad's not supposed to be back for another two weeks at least," he hissed in a panicked voice.

Farfarello shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned. He dipped his finger in a frothy puddle beside his bowl and licked it. "Crawford's home."

Firm footfalls were now striding up the corridor. The walk wasn't Schuldich's walk, not at all.

Crawford really _was_ home.

"Okay act casual," Nagi whispered and immediately felt stupid. Farfarello always acted the same, no matter what the situation. "We have to ease him into this. And we absolutely can't let him know Ken's with Schu right now or he'll murder them both."

"Dead like daffodils," Farfarello agreed and went back to lapping up spilt froth.

Brad entered the kitchen, looking both impeccable and intimidating in a suit of pure black wool.

"Brad hi!" Nagi greeted as enthusiastically as he could. While Brad was hardly a caring sort of man, he did have quite the soft spot for Nagi. Nagi figured if anyone could placate Brad, it would be him. "What're you doing home so early? I missed you!"

Brad's foreboding expression eased. He never liked to display his curt anger around his younger half-brother. "We closed the deal a lot sooner then I'd anticipated." He tousled Nagi's hair and nodded in Farfarello's direction. "How are you, Farfarello?"

"Like metacarpi poking from flesh," Farfarello answered serenely.

"I see." Brad glanced at his watch and asked offhandedly, "Where is Schuldich?"

Nagi looked over at his boyfriend, who had resumed whisking his bowl of mush. Clearly there wasn't going to be much help from that department. "Er...it would seem that...now Brad don't get mad 'cause it's not that big a deal but...um...Schuldich kinda left."

Brad's face remained impassive but his eyes did narrow behind his glasses. If Nagi hadn't been looking for a reaction, he wouldn't have caught the tiny gesture. "Is he with _Ken_?"

"No no, it's nothing like that," Nagi hastily assured the man. He had to suppress a wince at the derision in Brad's voice when he spoke Ken's name. This wasn't going to be pretty, that was for sure. "It's more like...er...he just decided..." How to put this delicately?

Farfarello wasn't concerned with propriety or the wrath of Brad's temper. "He moved out," he piped up. "A few days ago. He said he's not coming back. He's gone like the hoop skirt, didn't you know?"

Nagi now suppressed the urge to groan. 

"Moved out _where_?" Brad's tone was succinct, quiet. Nagi knew there was an explosion waiting to happen behind those words. 

"Back to his house of course," Nagi quickly chimed in. "And not with that Ken guy or anything. They're only friends and don't see each other...hey where are you going?"

"I want him here," Brad replied imperiously, striding into the living room. "I have work for him to do."

Nagi chased after him. "Come on Brad, you just got here! You need food and a proper rest and all that. Give it until morning at least." He grabbed the older man's wrist and stopped him. "Please Brad? Let's just hang out tonight, you and me. I haven't seen you in ages. Schu isn't going anywhere. I bet he's drunk out of his mind right now and angry that you've been gone for so long. You know how rash and sulky he can get sometimes. Just give him a bit of time alone to brood and he'll be back here before you know it." Nagi blinked up at Brad with wide eyes. "This is Schu's _real_ home and we both know how much he cares about you. He'd do anything for you. He'd _never_ leave you."

Brad scrutinized him for a few moments and then came to the decision that Nagi knew he would. "You're right, of course. Schuldich wouldn't dare leave, he needs me too much. He has nothing else, afterall." He smiled thinly and placed a hand on Nagi's shoulder. "You change out of your school clothes, I'll shower and then I'll take you to that high rise restaurant you like."

"Can Farfarello come?"

"Of course," Brad replied dismissively, heading down the hallway.

Nagi waited until he heard the door to Brad's room shut before racing into the kitchen. "You make sure Brad doesn't come in here," he ordered, pulling his boyfriend to his feet. "I'll call Schu and warn him."

Farfarello leaned down and kissed Nagi soundly. "You know how to play with the marionettes," he stated and padded out of the kitchen.

Nagi yanked out his cell phone and speed-dialled Schuldich's cell. There were a few rings before his voice mail came on.

"Schu you dumb shit are you there? Brad just came home and he's super _pissed_ that you're not around. Your stupid plot worked like charm 'cause he's definitely jealous over Ken and if he finds out that Ken's with you, you guys'll be _history_! I just conned him into thinking that you're in a pissy rage and will be home soon. He'd much rather you come to him, naturally. Anyway, I'll keep him busy for as long as I can, you get rid of Ken and then come home soon so we can figure something out."

Nagi snapped his cell phone shut and joined his boyfriend. "Ken's dead meat," he muttered, sliding into Farfarello's arms. 

"Dying carcasses always attract flies," Farfarello intoned. He rested his chin atop Nagi's head. 

"I don't think Schu shouldn't be with Brad."

Nagi had said those words, both to Schuldich as well as to his boyfriend, and they never ceased to make him feel like a traitor. He loved Brad, the stern man was the only family he had but even he couldn't deny that Brad didn't treat Schuldich well. Schuldich deserved better then Brad; Nagi had known that from day one.

Farfarello touched Nagi's hair. "I don't think so much of that either."

~*~*~*~*~

The words hung between them.

_I want you to stay...and be here._

"Well I am here," Ken said unnecessarily. His voice sounded a bit too loud in the sudden still of the room. He had no idea what to say...or what Schuldich was even asking him. With fumbling fingers that he clumsily wrenched from Schuldich's cool grip, he gulped down a big splash of his green martini and felt warm choke into his chest. "What...er...what are you asking me, exactly?"

Schuldich contemplated for a few, uneasy moments. Then he picked up the scraggly piece of paper that was sitting under an empty beer stein and thrust it at Ken. "Here's your answer."

Ken glanced down at the paper. It was covered in stains and a loopy scrawl that was written in pink glitter ink. He looked back up at Schuldich and asked, rather boldly he thought, "To which question?"

Schuldich's expression was unreadable. "Read it and you'll know."

The ink hurt Ken's eyes. He held the spotty, smeared paper about an inch from his face, squinted his eyes and began to read. After a few seconds, he was snickering.  By the end of it he was laughing.

_Crawford, _ 

_How are you? I am fine._ _You are a shitty jerk. Why don't you go stick your head in a blender and press puree? _

_If you think I'm just some annoying punk hanging around your apartment all day then you're dumber than a boulder. You're lucky I help you with your work all the time because if I didn't then you'd have to pay someone to do what I do for free. You should be thanking all the Gods that I'm a real bargain. _

_I don't even snore dipshit._

_ Sometimes you know how to make me so mad._ _If you think I love you then you better think again Chief. I love you like I love a heel to the head. That means I don't love you because I don't love heels to the head, get it? Plus you suck a whole crapload because you don't know *jack shit*. That's why I'm dumping you like last week's left over pork udon._

_Sincerely, Schuldich_

_PS: I can read your mind, bimbo._

"Beautiful isn't it?" Schuldich looked beatific. "A work of true penmanship, I'd say. Shame I didn't write it in calligraphy."

Ken skimmed over the letter again, hooting. "You can't give him this, you called him a _'bimbo'_!"

"And _'dipshit'_ too, don't forget." Schuldich winked at him. "It took a load of work to make it look that shitty. I actually had to put _effort_ into the letter, which is more then bimbo deserves, lemme tell you."

"Hey pal, it's your death warrant." Ken set aside the letter. All in all, he was rather awed by Schuldich's daring. "You're dumping him? Seriously?" 

Schuldich toasted him with his beer bottle. "Yeah I am, I _have_ to. He had it coming, that's for sure."

"But why now? Sure he was a bastard but from what you've told me, sounds like he was always a bastard. I mean you knew about Emilia ages before the other night right? So what changed?" Ken hesitated and then added, "If you still want me to be your pretend boyfriend then I will. I don't mind, really I don't. If you love the guy then I'll-"

"I _do_ love him," Schuldich interrupted earnestly, pushing aside his drinks. "I can't help myself. I still love Brad and that isn't gonna disappear any time soon. Part of me wants to take you up on your offer and go on with the stupid charade. I still want him and I can't help that either. But then I think about our last conversation and I'm reminded of how weak and desperate I am. It's pathetic and I'm through with being pathetic. I'm not doing that shit again, especially not with you. I'm not sorry I scrounged you for this scheme because I wouldn't have met you otherwise but you've come to mean something to me. I'm not going to put you in the line of Brad's possessive anger, not anymore."

"Um...thanks?" Ken was heartily relieved. He didn't much fancy the idea of a murderous American with a murderous American weapon shooting him point blank in a deserted alleyway or something.

Schuldich seemed in a mood to talk; willing to share all his newfound revelations. He went on as though Ken hadn't spoken. "I've done a lot of thinking these past few days, like _mad_ thinking. I made lists and everything. You know what I came up with?" He waited for Ken to nod. "I came up with this scenario...a _plausible_ scenario. Picture this...it's like five years in the future and Brad's married to Emilia or someone _appropriate_ like her. He lives in this huge house with his perfect trophy wife and his perfect two point five kids. He works hard, he socializes with his wife at all these fancy events, he plays with his kids and on the weekends he comes by to _fuck_ me. Just another possession in his perfect world." Schuldich scowled blackly. "Yeah, well guess what? _I don't think so pal_. I don't deserve that mediocre shit. It hurts now but that scenario would hurt way more. I'm not a closet trophy of his and I don't want to be second to a _wife_. So fuck that."

"Good for you." Ken was quite impressed by the Schuldich's speech. "The guy's an asshole. You're much better off without him."  

Schuldich nodded, satisfied by Ken's response. "Exactly. It's been long enough. I really would give anything for him to love me like how I love him but it's pretty obvious that it's not gonna happen. Everyone else could see it but me. I guess I just kept hoping...and I can read fucking _minds_." He snorted self-depreciatingly. "His call opened my eyes. The way he thought I didn't give a shit about his work, after all the hours I put in planning and organizing his stupid affairs...how self-occupied can you get? Nagi and Farfarello have been telling me for ages that Brad isn't good enough for me. Never struck home." Schuldich reached across the cramped table and ruffled Ken's hair affectionately. "Some of it also had to do with you. I thought about how much you loved Ran and how you gave him up. It wasn't an easy choice to make but he's not holding you back anymore. You're free to do whatever you want now."

"Yeah, I guess I am," Ken agreed, sipping at his green martini. He hadn't thought about his break-up with Ran as a liberating experience but it rang true all the same. He was free, of Ran and of Yohji too. He _could_ do anything he wanted to, he really could. "Birman helped me a lot though. She forced me to open my eyes and see that Ran didn't have it in him to love me like I wanted him to. Sometimes it's pretty hard to argue with your feelings, no matter what your head says."

"That's true." Schuldich touched his hand. "So you have my answer kiddo. What's yours?" 

Ken stared down at Schuldich's pale fingers and was reminded of Farfarello's painting. Was this what the Irish man had been trying to say? "You want me to stay with you? Here, for the entire night?"

"...yeah. I guess I do." Was there a slight bit of hesitancy in Schuldich's voice?

It was as though the past few days hadn't happened, as if they hadn't been separated. Schuldich hadn't hurt Ken with his abrupt dismissal and Ken wasn't here to say good-bye. They were still friends, brought together by circumstance and bound by mutual need and similarity. Tonight was just another session of relationship purging, like they'd been doing since that first night outside of the 'Electropolis' nightclub. And now that they were both back to being single, worthless boyfriends a thing of the past, mostly...there was a whole other realm their friendship could evolve into.

Which was something that scared Ken. He had stayed with Schuldich for money and still had gotten hurt because he'd come to care for Schuldich as a friend. How much worse would that hurt have been had he and Schuldich been something...more? Because there was an attraction between then, Ken was certain of it. He himself liked Schuldich more then he should and much more then was safe. 

"Ken?"

"I can't," Ken muttered, pulling his hand away. "It wouldn't be a good idea. You know that as well as I do."

"Why?" Schuldich's eyes bore into him like he was trying to read his mind. 

Ken had to know for sure. He took a breath and blurted out, "Are you attracted to me?"

Beneath his very eyes, Schuldich's gaze became smouldering. "You have to ask?"

Ken blinked. The answer was slightly throaty and hearing it made his stomach tremble. "Then that's why I can't stay."

"Yeah, you probably shouldn't." Schuldich downed the rest of his beer in one deep swig. He wiped his mouth with his arm. "I hurt you that day, I know it. You're just coming off of a serious relationship. I still love Brad. Ran wants you back." A loaded pause. "But..."

Ken's breath caught. "But?"

"Logic was never my strong suit," Schuldich drawled, smirking slightly. "Why do you think I stayed with Brad all this time? I'm a fucking idiot and I want you to stay here because I like you. You're easy to talk to, you're interesting, you're kind and you're funny." Then he added, as an afterthought, "And I wanna bang you."

"Erm..." Ken didn't know how to respond to that. His face felt very hot. "You...uh _do_?"

"Yeah, _hell_." Schuldich deliberately checked Ken out. "You got that hot jock body. I'm just hot period. I haven't had sex since Bardy left and I know you've been living green since that shit dumped you. Why don't we just eliminate the middlemen and go at it?"

"But that shit just dumped me." Ken hurriedly drank more of his martini. Something told him he was going to need an extra bit of courage for this turn in the conversation. "I'm like on the rebound or whatever you call it."

"And Ran wants you back," Schuldich reminded him, examining a bottle of candied cherries.

"Yeah he does." Ken sighed loudly. That was a whole other drama that he just didn't have the energy to deal with. "And you love Brad, remember? You're strong and determined now but if you see him and he looks all good and stuff, you just might end up going back to him."

"Yeah, he _is_ my weakness," Schuldich agreed, tilting his head sideways. "Hey, if I try to get back with Brad you'll beat my head in right?"

"Sure. And if I try to get back with Ran or Yohji...?"

"I'll hit you too."

"Good deal."

There was a lengthy silence.

Ken chewed on his lip and studied the table before while Schuldich made a production of wiping the sticky maraschino cherry bottle on his letter to Crawford. This was some kinda turn of events...and Ken didn't know whether it was all the alcohol Schuldich had consumed talking or what. Have _sex_ with _Schuldich_...less then a week after being dumped by Yohji...all the while Ran still wanted him back? Ken was no male whore, thanks very much! He'd never, ever had casual sex with anyone before and he wasn't about to start now. It was such a seedy thing to do. And even if it _wasn't_...well it would only lead to a whole load of complications later on. Who knew, Schuldich might even change his mind about Crawford upon seeing him on Japanese soil. From what Ken understood, Crawford didn't seem like the sort of guy who'd take being dumped easily. He'd probably pound Schuldich some, physically and sexually and then drag him back to his fancy sky-rise apartment.

 "You wanna tour of the house or something?"

Ken looked at the redhead and felt a spark of..._something_. Schuldich was decent and Crawford was nothing more then a stupid American bastard who didn't deserve the telepath. Ken couldn't bring himself to answer negatively, even though his head was telling him to bust a _right_ move. "I guess."

Schuldich stood and wove his way through the stacks of books and papers that littered the floor. He hadn't lied; drinking really hadn't impaired his balance at all.

Ken pinched his nose and drank the rest of his verdant martini in one straight gulp. "Whoa there's a swizzle." He carefully rose to his feet, his head feeling light-headed. "What the hell's in that hoopla?"

"Midori liqueur, green apple vodka, Triple Sec and lime cordial." Schuldich smirked, kicking aside some stray papers as he approached Ken. "Can't handle your booze, kiddo?"

"Pfft. I can handle anything I want to," Ken bragged. His chest felt incredibly warm. "I'm stronger then people gimme credit for. So my boyfriend dumped me. Big deal. So my ex wants me back just after I got over him. Bigger deal. I don't need either of those shitty asshats. Screw them, they can kiss my ass."

"Yeah? Well I want in on that," Schuldich said huskily, striding close to Ken. 

Not to put too fine a point on it but _very_ close.

Ken took a hasty step backward. The backs of his knees collided with the coffee table and he would've fallen backwards on his ass in a heap of bottled liquor and empty glasses had Schuldich not caught hold of his wrist. He yanked Ken up against his long, lean body _hard_. 

"I always thought that ass of yours was pretty damn fine," Schuldich drawled out, skimming his hands around Ken's waist very slowly. His blazing gaze belied his casual tone.

"Erm..." Ken's eyes felt enlarged. He didn't know how to deal with a sexually flirty and touchy Schuldich! He squirmed in Schuldich's arms. The redhead was invading his personal space like _how_. "You don't say."

"I _do_ say," Schuldich murmured, his lips falling upon the curve of Ken's ear. He matched Ken's wiggling with measured shifts of his own.

The pit of Ken's stomach dipped as though he was flying downwards at unnatural speeds. Schuldich grinding as doing very naughty things to his body. Ken pulled away as far as Schuldich's arms would allow and rubbed his ear against his shoulder. "Stop that, it's tickling!"

"Good." Schuldich slipped roving hands downwards and groped at Ken's ass. Grinning at the surprised yelp his squeezings wrung from the boy, he ground his hips against Ken's with smooth motions intended solely to tease. "Keep wiggling kiddo, I _like_ that." 

Ken gulped in air. "What are-" The words were cut from him as Schuldich began to nuzzle the length of his neck. He had to struggle to speak. This was not right _at all_...and hell, how was he supposed to think clearly when Schuldich kept moving like _that_? "Are you...um...are you still gonna...show me your house?"

Schuldich didn't bother to answer. Instead he kissed him with liquor-laced lips. Ken gasped in shock and realized one frantic heartbeat later that he probably sounded like a gutted chicken but Schuldich didn't seem to care. Desire was tangible between them, evident in the carnal way Schuldich devoured his mouth, the way he pushed wildly against slim hips, bulging hardness. An overwhelming, sensual rush slathered over Ken. His every sense was warping, each heightened to dizzying peaks. Logic and all the things that made up his reality fell apart. His awareness of things other then Schuldich dissipated; there was only the telepath between him and over him and around him.

Ken moaned as Schuldich's tongue tangled with his own. He could taste a hundred things Schuldich brought to him, all of them drenched, and intoxicating and striving to make him light-headed. The pit of his stomach trembled as his body rose from warm to scorching. He found himself winding his arms around Schuldich's neck and riding those sexy, undulating movements.  

"You want me," Schuldich whispered against swollen lips. One hand moved to slip around front and scribbled high upon the inside of Ken's thigh. There but not _there_.

Ken panted, clenching his eyes shut. "No I don't," he whispered back, his tongue tracing a moist line over the full curve of Schuldich's bottom lip. "We're  not gonna have sex when we haven't even known-_uhhhh_!" Now they were _there_, those certain, questing fingers, right _there_, where they needed to be and where they felt so _good_. Ken shoved  forward with hasty, clumsy thrusts, unable to find the willpower to stop.  

The smirk was palpable in the German man's voice. "Who said anything about having sex?"

"What d'you call this smart ass?" Ken wheezed, arching his neck and feeling damp lips mark his burning skin.

"I call this fondling," Schuldich murmured, jerking covered flesh skilfully. "And I call this..." Dexterous fingers unbuttoned and unzipped cargo pants in scant moments before slipping inside constraining boxer shorts. "Tell me what I should call this, Kenny boy."

Ken cried out, his heart vaulting. He squirmed in those cool, scrabbling fingers. "Manipulation of the situation," he managed thickly.  

Schuldich sounded smug. "You want some more manipulation?"  

"No," Ken groaned, shifting his hips quicker. His entire body was feverish, bright with sweaty twists. He was holding onto the telepath so tightly he could hardly stand it. He wanted things he knew but couldn't name for the life of him...he wanted his bones to melt into the other's so those aching shifts would be doubled and solid. It was too much and not enough. Whimpering, Ken bent one knee hooked against Schuldich's hip; to bring him deeper into that immobile grasp. "M-may...maybe."

Schuldich's voice was low, breathy. "You're getting off on this." He tightened his fingers around Ken and began fisting in light, languid pumps. "I can't read your mind kiddo. Tell me how much you like this."

Ken huffed into Schuldich's ear and licked at smooth skin. "Faster," he panted, leaking prefluid into scantily-brushing digits. "Schuldich..." Since it was fairly obvious that this _was_ going to happen and that it was going to be so _good_, Ken decided it wasn't enough, that barely there grip. Urgency as viscous as the pleasure rolling from behind his groin wavered over Ken. He had to feel naked skin, had to return this engulfing lust. Holding onto Schuldich's shoulder with a biting clasp, he pressed his hand against the closure of low slung jeans and fumbled. After gauchely managing to yank them open, he stuffed his hand down Schuldich's pants to find that the guy was going commando. _Shit_. He passed his palm over the expanse of erect flesh, drawing a breathy moan from the redhead.

"That's sweet," Schuldich groaned, lapping moist paths down the curve of Ken's neck. He angled his pelvis into the boy's eager clinch as he began jerking Ken in faster, rougher strokes.

There was nothing tethering Ken to the ground but the German. Both awkward and forceful in his haste, Ken mashed his crying mouth onto Schuldich's. The pleasure was too much for him to bear, too incredibly intense. They were uneven in their passion, movements out of sync and hurried and sloppy and so damn _insistent_. The flesh, the taste, the angling...all of it was new to Ken and it was sweet, for all that it was. And unbearably arousing to both, beyond experience and expectation.

Schuldich tore his mouth from the boy's and abruptly released him. Ken whimpered in response, tightening his hold upon the stiff, hard length throbbing inside the circle of his fingers. Schuldich broke his hold and shoved Ken backwards into the upright, cushy embrace of a wingchair. Then Schuldich was back, on his knees, pushing open Ken's pants and there was no prelude, no teasing, no enticing. Just his _mouth_...working _there..._

Ken struggled not to scream. He didn't know whether he was successful or not. Schuldich was _all_ around him, every inch of Ken's aching hardness slick and hot and marked. Had it ever been this drenched, this searing before? Had his stomach ever writhed so harshly? Had he ever felt the need to dominate so completely? Why was restraint such a foreign concept? Why he so close to the edge when they'd only just started? Where was this sheer urgency coming from? 

There were long, soggy strokes and pursed lips. There were kitten-laps soaking up precream. There were saliva scrawls down below, where his churning liquid sought a desperate escape. And now it was all there again, enshrouded in fluid warmth and self-control really was nothing more then an abstract concept sort of like... 

Ken choked, his hips arcing from the chair and into the utter _sex_ of Schuldich's lips. He was chanting mindless, endless nonsense, comprised of the German's name and pointless exclamations. His body was so tight, drawn like a wire strung between two points and it seemed to crest forever and not for even an instant, this cloying lust, and everything was so concentrated and so muted all at once and he couldn't tell up from down but only knew that he was going somewhere, anywhere and that it was fucking _tremendous_ and then...then...

Then.

"Oh hell," Ken wheezed, his body dropping back lax into the chair. Schuldich was still there, around him, coaxing and catching all and the last bit. Ken touched vibrant hair with weak, trembling fingers. A shudder ran throughout his body when Schuldich looked up and gave him a frothy smirk.

"Like that goalie boy?" Voice so throaty, sounding _exactly_ like what it had just been doing. Schuldich pushed aside coarse material and pressed his lips onto Ken's quivering thigh.

"Shouldn't've..." Why wasn't air going into his lungs? His chest heaved at the effort to breathe. He was still trembling. "Shouldn't've done that..."

"But I wanted to," Schuldich murmured, peeling apart his own jeans. His hand disappeared and he groaned softly. "Wanted to since...uhhh...found you watching soccer...middle of the morning...that fi-first day...so fucking _cute_..."

Ken bonelessly slid out of his chair and fell against Schuldich, sending them both to the carpet. "Lemme," he whispered, his hands eagerly roaming beneath Schuldich's shirt, over lean muscles and hard nipples. 

Schuldich's breath was unsteady. His hands rose to entwine in Ken's hair. "Gonna...manipulate the situation?"

"Yeah, I'll manipulate your situation, _kiddo_." Ken decided he liked having the upper hand, liked how Schuldich made soft cries as he slid those lanky jeans down lean hips and skimmed his fingers over smooth, sweaty thighs, liked how Schuldich was moaning for him to touch him where he needed it the most.

He'd never really had the opportunity to _tease_ before. It was pretty satisfying to have someone's orgasm rest entirely on your pace and your ministrations, Ken idly thought as he swallowed as much sexflesh as his mouth could hold.

It was different then what he was used to, a different taste and texture and size and those differences were what made it delicious. He'd never much enjoyed this sort of task, never doing so with Ran and only occasionally with Yohji. He hadn't intended to now either, to tell the truth; had only meant to use fingers and the eroticism of his grip but Schuldich's noises were so sexy and he found himself lowering his head for just one lick of one drooling drop...   

Schuldich was muttering in German, words that sounded racy and shocked and out of breath. Ken liked that also and especially liked _this._ The redhead's grip on his hair bordered on painful; Ken didn't care. His used his oral muscle to caress the taut, pulsating length and used the insides of his cheeks to cradle and sheath. He found he didn't mind this, for whatever odd reason. Schuldich's pleasure was all that mattered. Ken renewed his enthusiastic endeavours, flicking and squirming and fondling, using his hands and mouth and tongue. A few frenzied moments and he was rewarded with a sharp thrust of bucking hips hard into his mouth. Stiffened limbs, painful clench, heated rigidity and then _that_.

Ken gagged and tried to swallow the onslaught of copious, acerbic fluid. He managed to keep some in, the rest dribbled down his chin and onto sweaty skin and faded jeans. 

"S-sorry," he choked, sitting back and scrubbing at his face with one wrinkled sleeve. "Never was too good at-"

Schuldich's lips covered speaking ones in a demanding kiss. Two sorts of bitter milk slathered them, strange and familiar and sexy.

"We have all night to practice," Schuldich promised, licking the side of Ken's neck in a slow, luscious trail. "I still owe you don't I? Can't keep my pseudo-boyfriend waiting..."

"But...but this isn't a good idea. Remember?" Ken found himself groping with the buttons to Schuldich's shirt. Why weren't the friggin' things coming undone? "'Cause it'll complicate our relationship and our ex-boyfriends'll get pissed and then Birman'll get mad at me for being bad after I just got dumped and...I'm not drunk am I?" 

Schuldich kissed him again, hard, and Ken decided that he didn't much care if he was or not.


End file.
